


Give It Time, Sunflower

by lorento



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Flirting, Daggers, Drinking to Cope, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Magic in progress, Original Character(s), Pardon my Orlesian, Reluctant Inquisitor, Rogue Inquisitor - Freeform, Sarcasm, Sera Being Sera (Dragon Age), Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, Snark, Swearing, The Iron Bull (Dragon Age) Has a Dragon Kink, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Varric Tethras' Nicknames, Vivienne (Dragon Age) is a Bitch, WIP, too much swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2020-06-24 15:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19726801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorento/pseuds/lorento
Summary: Angering her further, he merely staggered back a pace or two, surprise filling his features. “I did nothing. The credit is all yours.”She snarled at him, cradling her throbbing hand into her body. The pain had changed; it was now more like the fiery ache of an over-used, damaged muscle, rather than the twitching jerks of pain that had flashed through her as she had got closer to the rift.“Apologies, I should have considered that it would be somewhat painful.” He said, touching his face gently, one side blooming into a very fetching pink.“Oh, fuck off.” She hissed._______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Ornery, sarcastic & flirty Inquisitor because it's such a fun trope. Quizzy is my own creation, but largely follows in-game twists and turns, with some diversions.





	1. It would be easier to show you

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, too many tags. And no, I can’t make up my mind. Cullen and Solas are obvious choices, but Blackwall sounds like home to me, sounds like the first guy I ever kissed (and second, third…). I guess we’ll see where it goes! To be honest, I'll probably add more...
> 
> I uploaded this in honour of finally (finally!) finishing Trespasser this week. I’d been putting it off for years and I am devastated! I knew what was going to happen, but I’m still reeling. Give me back my arm, you bastard! I am feeling all of the emotions. And Cass’ voiceover at the end absolutely killed me.
> 
> This is meant to be somewhat light-hearted but is a bit woebegone at first (and in subsequent bits). I’m not following the cut-scenes verbatim and there is some Orlesian (well, French) used in here – I’ll stick the translations at the bottom.  
> Updates hopefully twice a month. All comments and criticism welcome!

“Motherfucker!”

Pain. So much pain. White hot, lancing through her hand, up through her arm and radiating into the rest of her body, throbbing as if it would burst with the pain and the heat of it. Dazed and nauseated, she raised her head, eyes still tightly squeezed shut against the sharp agony, mouth slightly open; panting, groaning.

Where was she? Had she fallen? She tried to move to grasp her right arm, to assess the damage.

Shackles.

Her eyes flew open, finding her hands chained, a long piece of metal between them, and worse – _so much worse_ – her left hand glowing with a sickly, green light. 

“What…” She let out another pained gasp as the metal slid from her wrist and knocked her hand, pulling away with her other hand as she flinched violently.

“Desist.” Rumbled a stern voice from in front of her. Blinking roughly to clear the sudden tears from her eyes, she finally noticed the two guards standing in front of a barred door, their swords hanging by their side. The second guard banged on the door, no doubt to signal her return to wakefulness. Taking some slow breaths to try, _try_ , and mediate her pain and panic, her heart rate began to slow from the stampede that it had been attempting. She quickly glanced around the place, noting the lack of sunlight, the further two guards behind her, and the general – well, décor might be too strong of a word – look of it. A prison then. Great. 

She quirked her mouth in the semblance of a smirk, to remark that this was definitely not the kinkiest situation she’d ever been in. But all she could manage right then was a hoarse cough and a grimace – the sound of someone who had been without water for a day or two. Not quite the nonchalance that she was going for.

Footsteps sounded outside the barred door, and she tried to straighten up, not to look as utterly scared shitless as she felt. Why was she here? What the ever-loving fuck was on her hand? 

As she considered the alien gash on her hand, it cracked and burned like white hot flame again. Her forehead thunked onto the cold stone of the prison floor as everything in her tensed, squeezed, as she tried to ride out the wave of pain radiating from her hand.

Gasping and sweating, she was dimly aware of her shoulder being pulled back and dissonant voices rumbling through the air. She blinked quickly, a trickle of sweat making its leisurely way down her forehead, and stared at the new people in the room, confused. It was like they were speaking underwater – she couldn’t understand a thing they were saying; even their figures were blurry.

She watched dazedly, as the figures paced around, agitated sounds making their way to her, and she recoiled as whispers of words made their way to her. 

“… Conclave… Dead…”

_Dead?_ Her breath quickened as one of the figures leaned closer to her.

Her vision cleared, slowly, and the shiny figure in front of her became clear, and she suddenly, truly, realised how much shit she was in. Because she recognised this woman, had seen her briefly in the small town near where the Conclave was going to happen, and knew exactly how important she was.

That was Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker and Divine Justinia’s Right Hand. And she looked pissed as hell. Cassandra lunged for her, clearly at the limit of her patience with her continued silence, only to be dragged back by a hooded woman. She vaguely remembered seeing her too but couldn’t put a name to the shrouded face.

“We need her, Cassandra!” The mystery woman hissed, pushing her away.

She scrambled to right herself, after being knocked sideways by Cassandra, thankfully landing on her right-side. After some muttered discussion, they both turned back to her.

“What…” She coughed again and rasped, her dry mouth making talking difficult. “What’s going on?” 

“It will be easier to show you.” Cassandra pulled her roughly to her feet, the jolt sending further shockwaves of pain up and down her arm. She stumbled forward a few paces, her balance off. Cassandra fiddled with her shackles, eventually replacing them with a thick rope, ignoring her gasps of pain.

Cassandra led her through the darkened hallway of a Chantry building. People were kneeling over a few, sputtering candles; some weeping and some fervently praying. She looked around astonished and wary – what had happened? The huge doors of the Chantry were pushed open for them, and her entire world changed.

A feverishly bright gash in the night sky screamed down at her like a second sun, casting a green tinge upon everything around them. 

“We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with every passing hour.”

She stared up at it, hopeless, filled with horror and dread, as Cassandra continued talking.

“Wait…” She interrupted her, voice rough with mistreatment and shock. “An explosion can do that?”

Cassandra nodded and walked closer to her: “This one did.”

“Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

The Breach suddenly cracked, spewing dark shapes forward, and a pained yell was suddenly ripped from her throat, the mark distorting and twisting in her hand along with it. Her knees gave out from the sheer, screeching pain and she landed with a thud in the dirt, keening lowly. Cassandra tutted and knelt down beside her, a frown creasing her already stern face.

“Each time the Breach expands, you mark spreads… And it is killing you.”

“Oh, I wondered what that soul-sucking, blinding pain was.” She muttered shakily, wiping the sweat from her brow. Cassandra seemed to ignore her and continued, her hand now grasping her unmarked arm, as if willing her to understand.

“It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“ _Merde_.” She sighed, realising the futility of her situation. She looked up and at the Breach again, feeling the empty horror of it once more. “Prisoner or no, I understand. If I can somehow help with… well, that then… lead on, Seeker.”

Cassandra looked at her approvingly – hopefully she was reading that particular facial expression correctly anyway, this woman was carved from marble – and helped her back to her feet.

The trip through the streets of the village was not a fun one. People hissed at her as she walked by, shouted curses and racial slurs, and one enterprising boy even threw a tomato. Thankfully his aim was off, but she was still taken aback by the hatred she saw etched onto every face. Half-elf or no, she had never been treated with this kind of vehement feeling before by such a large crowd of people.

It was unnerving, even with Cassandra’s oh-so-helpful commentary, explaining her trial by popular opinion. It was apparent even to her that she had been found wanting, her guilt already decided. It was probably only the glower on Cassandra’s face and the sword swinging from her hip that kept the people from getting violent. With her wrists still tied together and the glowing, aching mess that was her left hand leaving her defenceless, she was suddenly quite glad of her ornery bodyguard.

Cassandra carried on talking – though a stream of mourning might be a better description – about the Conclave and the Divine as they walked through and out of the town, several weary soldiers saluting the Seeker as they made their way past outposts and eyeing her askance.

She noted that Cassandra finished her monologue about the mages, Templars and Divine Justinia, with a plea for her to think ‘beyond herself’ – whatever that meant – the emotion heavy in her voice as she talked about the sealing of the Breach. They came to a stop on a large bridge overlooking the valley. She was out of breath already and had begun to feel a bit woozy. She wished Cassandra would offer her some water, at least. 

“They’re really all dead?” She whispered, looking up at the Seeker. Cassandra nodded firmly. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she winced at the conflicting emotions within her. “Maker…”

“The only survivor we found was you.” Cassandra stared at her for a second, then whipped out a dagger, seemingly from nowhere. Before she could do much more than take a shocked step back, Cassandra cut the ropes that bound her hands together. Even the slightest touch to her marked hand made her hiss and scrunch up her eyes in pain.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more.”

She nodded, wiggling her fingers as the blood rushed back into them, circulation properly restored. The green light crackled ominously in her hand and she flinched at the feel of it; a sudden sweat breaking out across her body and her stomach lurching unpleasantly. A trial suddenly seemed like the very least of her worries.

“Come – it is not far.” Cassandra turned and walked across the bridge, calling for them to open the gate into the valley.

“Wait, where are you taking me?” She asked. She wiped the rapidly-cooling sweat off her forehead with the back of her unmarked hand and strode forward to catch up with Cassandra, down the dirt path. “Like I said, I’m going to help you – but I need to know what’s going on here, what the plan is.”

“I’m taking you to one of the rifts that the Breach has brought forth, to test your mark. They’re smaller and…”

The Breach spat violently, cutting off Cassandra’s explanation, and brought her to her knees again with a cry of pain, the mark reflecting the sudden spurt of growth. Cassandra grasped hold of her shoulders while she groaned, and slowly pulled her to her feet.

“The pulses are coming faster now,” Cassandra noted, clapping her on the arm in what she assumed was meant to be an encouraging gesture.

“Really?” She gasped, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, pulling her forward down the icy path.

“The larger the Breach grows the more rifts appear...”

“And you’re bringing me down here to see if I can… close?... one of these rifts?”

“Yes, we will see how you fare against that, before going to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Cassandra said, firmly, glancing down at her, guiding her through another set of huge gates onto a bridge. She nodded, almost absent-mindedly as she pondered the chances of her surviving an encounter with such a thing. It wasn’t looking great for her.

“Watch out!”

A huge ball of flaming green fire collided with the bridge, flinging screaming soldiers spiraling into the air. The bridge cracked and buckled violently, and began to collapse, pulling the two of them downwards and tumbling onto the icy ground of the frozen lake beneath them. 

“Uuuugh.” Curse words spun around her head like a blaspheming merry-go-round as she tried to gain her bearings. Though her whole body now felt like one giant bruise and her teeth were still rattling from the impact with the frozen surface of the lake, at least the ice took some of the burning pain away from her marked hand. And at least nothing was broken.

_There we go_. She thought. _There’s that silver lining I was looking for_.

She took a few deep, calming breaths, and looked up, locating the Seeker quickly. Cassandra was rubbing her head in a pained manner, but she was at least getting to her feet. Her ornery bodyguard was safe for now at least, she thought with some relief. 

Or maybe she had thought that a bit too soon, as another green fireball came plummeting towards the earth and imploded on the nearest frozen shore. As she watched, horrified, the green fire shone and then fizzled, as a bubbling dark shape emerged from the dying flames. 

The thing stretched out its withered arms and groaned, its entire body turning towards them. 

“What the fuck is that!” She shrieked, terrified. “Is that a fucking demon? No one said anything about demons!”

“A shade! Stay behind me!” Cassandra yelled, pacing forward, sword and shield pulled out in front of her. Despite her terror, a small part of her was definitely impressed. A tragedy beyond all expectation, green magic shooting from a huge hole in the sky, flung from a bridge – that drop must have been twenty feet at least – and yet Cassandra was ready to do battle with demonic monsters, with no hesitation, no fear.

She was damn glad that she was, at least now, on her side.

As Cassandra lunged forward, engaging the floating figure – shit, that thing is actually _floating_ – the ice in front her began to bubble and flicker with a line of dark flame. She whimpered in horror and backed away as another dark shaped coalesced from the flames, stumbling backwards over the bits of debris from the bridge’s collapse and falling onto the ice. She looked around, panicked, searching for something, anything to help her. 

A memory was instantly pulled to the forefront of her mind and a woman’s voice, dripping honey and a little condescension if she was honest, reverberated around her head: ‘Come on now, sweet thing. Time to pull on those big girl panties and start bloody stabbing.’

Sound advice and all, but there wasn’t a damn dagger to be found. She wasn’t even wearing proper armour. She pulled herself up and spotted a bow and quiver, fallen out of a box of supplies from the bridge. Unfortunately, she had only ever held a bow before, but it was better than nothing. She grasped the bow clumsily, began to pull an arrow into place, and instantly shrieked when the shade batted the entire thing out of her hands. It cracked against the rocks, the bowstring flopping uselessly onto the ice. 

_Well, fuck_.

The shade whirled back to her, arms raised, so close she could practically taste its foul stench coating the air around her. The hit, square in her chest, pushed all of the air out of her lungs and threw her backwards, crashing over debris and landing tangled on the floor. 

She scrambled to her feet, gasping, trying to catch her breath, but the shade was already on her and grasped her arm hard, instantly mottling the skin around it, and a gargled yell was ripped from her throat in pained terror. A swift whoosh of heat washed over her and the shade, repelled and screeching, was suddenly covered in flames, pouring over the tattered remnants of its armour and flickering over its grey flesh, burning and hissing. 

A sword suddenly thrust forward from between its ribs and the creature collapsed in onto itself, dead.

Cassandra was staring at her wide-eyed, her sword still drawn and pointing directly at her.

She looked down in disbelief at the smouldering bundle of rags that remained at her feet, which was quickly giving way to green mist. The rising nausea finally overwhelmed her, and she leaned away from the smoky fumes and bent double, gasping.

Only, of course, there was nothing in her stomach to throw up, and so she just retched, panicking even more when she found that she then couldn’t breathe.

“Mage, what are you doing?” Cassandra hissed, reaching across to pull at her shoulder. “We have to move.”

“I’m not…” She heaved again and coughed, then tried to protest again. She wasn’t a mage, had never been a mage, had no idea what was happening. “I don’t…” She shook her head as the words petered out among her sharp, cutting breaths and fell to her knees as her head swam.

Cassandra knelt beside her and looked her in the eyes: “Just breathe.” She said, shortly, keeping her unwavering gaze on hers. “You need to calm down. In and out. That’s it.”

As her breaths and heart rate slowed, Cassandra stood, no longer eyeing her distrustfully, but more thoughtful. She sheathed her sword and picked up her shield, swinging it into place on her back.

The small amount of bile still in her mouth was bitter and she spat, feeling woozy and disgusting, her bent knees quickly becoming soaked from the snow. Cassandra perched precariously on a broken crate next to her and handed her a water bottle. She took it gratefully and swilled out her mouth, then sipped the water, keeping her breaths slow and deep.

“I should remember that you came willingly. If we find a staff on the way, you may use it.” Cassandra sighed, “Come, we must be on our way.”

She said nothing but splashed some water on her face, to clean it of the sweat and residue of the fight, then handed the waterskin back to Cassandra. Shakily, she stood and took a few experimental steps forward. When the ground didn’t immediately come rushing up to greet her, she nodded at the Seeker to continue on.

“Where are all your soldiers?” She croaked and coughed to clear her throat, changing the subject from the most obvious one pressing on her mind. “Other than the ones at the bridge, I mean…”

“At the forward camp or fighting – there have been many rifts and demons to contend with over the past three days. We are on our own for now.”

“It’s been three whole days since the Conclave?”

Cassandra nodded and then pointed forward, interrupting further questions. “Over there by the ridge – more shades.”

She shoved a potion in her hands: “Stay here. Until we figure out more about your… condition, you should perhaps not fight.”

Drained and confused, she slumped down onto a convenient rock and sipped the potion, watching as Cassandra charged ahead to deal with the shades. That woman didn’t need any help anyway – she was a one-woman army.

Slowly she felt the potion work its way through her body, reinvigorating her tired and aching limbs. Relief swam through her as her nausea finally abated too, though it made very little impact on the pain radiating from her hand. She made her way over to Cassandra after a few minutes, watching with a flash of admiration as she disposed of her last kill and flicked the demon ichor of her longsword with no small measure of disgust.

“Well, at least there looks to be a bit more life in you.” Cassandra looked her up and down critically, as she came over. “Here – there was a short sword near the waterfall. Do you know how to use a blade at all?”

“I have some training with daggers. Didn’t have much to do with weaponry beforehand.” She took the blade – more of a long dagger really – from Cassandra, who hummed thoughtfully. It looked to be in decent condition, if freezing cold.

“May it serve you better than its former master.” She said gravely. “Come – we must move more quickly. The more time we waste, the more lives will be lost.”

Thanks to the potion and brief respite, she was finally up to jogging, rather than the limping pace she had set earlier. They crossed up to the stairs, their pace quickening as sounds filtered down to them from above. 

“We’re getting close to the rift!”

Her mark buzzed and twitched hideously in response: “Yeah, I’m getting that general feeling.” She groaned, her right hand wrapped around her left in an unsuccessful attempt to lessen the pain.

“You can hear the fighting!”

“Are we just saying things that are obvious now?” She muttered petulantly, her patience plummeting with each step closer to the rift bringing more tingling, burning spasms to her hand. Cassandra eyed her crossly and ushered her faster.

Guilt made her ask: “Who’s fighting?”

“You’ll see soon – we must help them.”

A battle not to answer flippantly raged within her momentarily, and she chose to remain silent, instead concentrating on picking over the ruins that separated them from the ongoing fight.

Horrified was not quite the word to describe her reaction on seeing the first rift – shocked, bewildered, terrified, awed at the sight of the alien gash, even a nervous kind of excitement at having some questions answered filled her. Several bodies littered the charred remains of the structures around them, though the soldiers still, thankfully, outnumbered the demons.

With a call for her to stay behind, Cassandra flew off into the fray, hacking and yelling at the shades in the centre of the skirmish. 

She weighed the dagger carefully and scanned the battling milieu before her; picking her target carefully – a lone shade on the outskirts floating towards the unguarded back of a soldier – she flung the dagger at it.

Her aim was a little off – she had been aiming to sever whatever tendons and ligaments held the scraggly thing’s head to its body – but she’d take a headshot. And she could certainly blame extenuating circumstances and her oddly heavy left hand for the difference in her usually impressive aim, if she did say so herself. 

Creeping into stealth to retrieve her weapon, she spotted a soldier having some difficulty with a shade and leapt forward to plunge her dagger into its back. A crossbow bolt to the shade’s face finished it off, and she stumbled forward as the whole thing dissolved into thick, green mist, nodding to the crossbow-laden dwarf across from her.

As Cassandra lopped the head off the last shade and began shouting orders to the few soldiers remaining, she felt her arm being grabbed and pulled towards the rift, the once solid mass of jagged green edges, turned hazy.

“Quickly, before more come through!” A man – an elf? – shouted next to her, yanking her arm up towards the rift and pulling her closer, as she shied away, terrified. 

Indescribable, agonising pressure built up in her hand and the rift changed, the haze billowing around a solid mass in the centre which pulsed rapidly along with the burgeoning pressure between her fingers. The rift’s hazy tendrils pulled inwards reaching a crescendo and, by instinct, she pulled backwards, hand clenching into a fist, teeth gritted, every inch of her tense and compressed by the connection which suddenly snapped… and the rift collapsed into nothingness.

She stumbled back in pain, gasping for air. Her hand was an aching ball of pain that radiated up her entire arm into her shoulder – it felt boneless, liquified. Sweat and tears mingled on her face as she tried to catch her breath.

She turned, pained rage bubbling inside of her, and smacked the elf hard in the face and howled: “What the fuck did you do?”

Angering her further, he merely staggered back a pace or two, surprise filling his features. “I did nothing. The credit is all yours.”

She snarled at him, cradling her throbbing hand into her body. The pain had changed; it was now more like the fiery ache of an over-used, damaged muscle, rather than the twitching jerks of pain that had flashed through her as she had got closer to the rift. 

“Apologies, I should have considered that it would be somewhat painful.” He said, touching his face gently, one side blooming into a very fetching pink.

“Oh, fuck off.” She hissed.

“I thought I told you to stay back… but at least we know that the mark can close the rifts. However, you, Apostate, were quite wrong about your patient not being a mage. How do you explain this?” Cassandra asked, frowning fiercely at him.

“I felt no magical ability from her during initial examinations.” The elf said, hand still raised to his face, looking at her with his eyebrows raised. “Regardless, the magic involved here is unlike any that I have seen. I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

She pursed her lips and said nothing, still nursing her hand and wiping her face clumsily on her shoulder.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach, also placed the mark upon your hand – it is incredibly powerful. I theorised that as the phenomena were linked, that the one should close the other. It seems I was correct.”

“Even for the Breach?” Cassandra asked, hopefully.

“Perhaps.” He turned to her once more. “You may hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know. And here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” The dwarf with the crossbow said, strolling over to the group, interrupting Cassandra.

“Varric Tethras: Rogue, story-teller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra, and even she felt her hackles rise in solidarity with Cassandra, who looked like she’d just swallowed a lemon.

“So, are you with the Chantry or…?” She asked, feeling the tension between the members.

“Is that a serious question?” The elf laughed, clearly amused. She really hated being left in the dark and threw him an unimpressed look. 

“Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you.” Varric said, smiling at her and straightening out his sleeves, as if this was a totally normal topic of conversation.

“I brought you here to tell your story to Divine Justinia, as you well know,” Cassandra scoffed. “Clearly that is no longer necessary.”

“Yet, here I am.” He smirked, “Lucky for you, considering current events.”

“It’s good to meet you Varric, despite… current events.” She said formally, dipping her head slightly. She was exhausted, scared and her hand felt like an active lightning rod, but politeness didn’t cost much, especially when potential allies, or even just those who didn’t actively want to string her up or stick her hand in a rift, were few and far between.

“You may reconsider that stance, in time.” And then there was the bald asshole next to her. She ignored him, still seething.

“Awwh, I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.” Varric insisted, a shit-eating smirk appearing on his face.

“Absolutely not.” Cassandra huffed, approaching him with what she considered to be quite an intimidating stance. She’d have been a bit scared anyway, the woman was a goddess enclosed in armour, even when covered in demon goop. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…” 

He interrupted her with an amused snort: “Have you been in the valley recently, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

Cassandra sighed, rubbed her forehead, and then gave a sharp nod. “Fine.”

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

“And by that he means: ‘I kept the mark from killing you while you slept’.” Varric supplied helpfully, still watching them all with an air of amusement. 

Well, that sure made her feel a bit of guilt for trying to slap seven shades of the Fade out of him. 

“Uh, thanks, I guess.” She said, oh so eloquently. To cover her embarrassment, she quickly deflected, letting her unasked question hang: “You seem to know a great deal about everything…”

“Solas is an apostate.” Cassandra stated, not attempting to hide the judgement in her voice. “Like you.”

“Technically, all mages are apostates now, Cassandra.” Solas reasoned. “My travels have…”

“I’m not a mage or an apostate,” She spluttered, interrupting Solas. “People need to stop saying that.”

“You got a name with all that healthy denial, Sunflower?” Varric asked. When she merely glared at him, he turned to the other members of the group. “Anyone?”

“I did not ask.” Cassandra stated flatly.

“You didn’t even bother to find out her name before throwing her at a bunch of demons?” Varric seemed outraged on her behalf.

“I’m telling you, I’m not a mage!” She growled at Cassandra, ignoring Varric completely.

“We should get to the forward camp quickly.” Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who could ignore people. She exhaled heavily, mouth pinched and nostrils flared with irritation, as Cassandra ushered them and strode past her, Solas close behind.

“Well, Bianca’s excited.”

“Other personality?” She deadpanned, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused by the oddly cheerful dwarf.

“Nope, that’s my crossbow, the beautiful Bianca.” He said smiling and patting it – her?

Cassandra sighed, again, and pulled her scowling, winded form down yet another snow-covered path – she had even less of an idea where they were now – and the two men followed closely behind them. She shook Cassandra’s grip off her after a few steps.

“This way, down the bank. The road ahead is blocked.” Cassandra instructed, just in case she was thinking of wandering off into demon-infested territory without them. Solas even added yet another platitude about moving quickly, gaining him yet another eyeroll. 

“So, Sunflower, you must feel like shit.” Varric said, looking up from inspecting his crossbow and appraising her carefully.

“Thank you for that astute observation.” She said dryly, gently rubbing the skin around her wrist – it was as close as she felt comfortable touching her own damn hand – and skirting round yet another random patch of fire.

“You didn’t actually say: What is your name?” He asked.

“None of your damn business.” She snapped, clumsily hopping over a broken wall.

“Huh. I like Sunflower better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it! 
> 
> (Translation: _Merde_ \- Shit)


	2. Quite Proficient

The Pride demon was surprisingly big. She had heard of them in stories of course – Circles run amok with demons and horrors – but seeing it right there in front of her was another matter entirely. She took a few steps back, terrified by its size and the deep, booming laughter that shook it as it struck a soldier in front of her. The soldier went down with an inhuman yell of pain, lacerations covering the front of his body.

_You need not be so afraid_. She heard a voice growl through her mind. She looked around wildly for the culprit, catching the demon in her line of sight as he swung a massive arm around to backhand another solider, sending him soaring backwards several feet. _You can show them all how powerful you can be. All that potential running through your veins_. 

Horror filled her as she realised that it was the demon – _a fucking demon!_ – was speaking to her. Lack of experience aside, every Chantry official she had heard ranting about the subject came back to haunt her, danger circling around her head like cawing carrion birds. It looked up at her realisation and briefly locked eyes – all a million of them – with her.

_You don’t know how powerful you could be. I can help you achieve that. Soon, they will be the ones answering to you._

_No, no, no!_ She thought wildly. How in the Fade did you fight off demons speaking in your mind? She had no guidelines for this, nothing could have prepared her for this kind of terror, or even… even… the temptation.

_Just say yes, little one. Only I can help you with this._

Would it not be something though, to never have to bow to someone else again? To be powerful enough to never allow someone to humiliate or hurt her, to never have to be someone’s whipping girl again? To never watch again as someone she loved suffered…

A heavy knock to her shoulder threw her out of her haze. Mind reeling, panting, she turned to see the angry expression of Solas close to her face.

“You must not listen. Block it out.” He ordered sternly, gripping her arm tightly. She nodded, her vision blurring as panicked tears pooled in her eyes. What had she nearly done?

He watched her closely for a moment, and nodded, releasing his grip. Great, now her other arm was throbbing too. She looked down briefly, noting the red and white imprints of his hand on her arm. That was going to bruise…

“The demon will not go down easily, it is strengthened by its close proximity to the Fade.” He said urgently. “Try to use the mark to destabilise the rift. This should give us some time.”

“How…?” She asked, bewildered. What had he even just said? Since when was a rift ‘stable’ anyway?

“Figure it out.” He snapped, harshly. She blinked and took a step back from him. “Only you can do this.”

From behind them, they heard Cassandra bellow at it and barge closer, slashing at its wrists and ankles in the hopes of hitting weaker points. The demon thundered in outrage and swiped at her with the back of its hand, letting out another rumble that shook her bones when Cassandra successfully dodged its blow.

“Do it, now! While its distracted!” Solas told her urgently, pushing her toward the rift. A tingling sensation and a slight blue tinge to her vision told her that he had cast a magical barrier around her. Well, at least she would be somewhat protected before being shoved in front a massive demon.

She pelted round to the back of the demon, hoping that she would be in its blind spot. Her hand jerked violently as she held it up towards the rift, and she gritted her teeth to keep back the scream building at the back of her throat. The mark in her hand connected with the enormous gash; an agonising, crackling, rod of light linked the two together, and she pulled away from it hard, clenching her hand tightly into a fist of pain and green, shimmering light. The rift cracked and burst, sending out waves of green mist.

A roar and a thud that shuddered her surroundings told her she was at least partly successful. Quickly glancing round, she saw that the demon had fallen to one knee, stunned from its temporarily severed connection. 

Quickly, she gathered herself, panting harshly, sweat coursing down her temples, and sped toward the demon, dagger ahead of her. The jump was poorly timed, and her dagger skittered off a jagged shoulder blade, barely making an impression into the horned, scaled skin. It did, however, find purchase as she slide down across its back, cutting deep into its arm, black blood sluggishly oozing out along the sheer cut. The creature gave a scream of rage and shook its arm violently to dislodge her, sending her toppling down, dagger still implanted in the demon’s horned elbow.

Demon ichor dripped off her, coursing down her arm. She shook her arm away from her in disgust, as she backed away from the demon, weaponless, eyeing the condition of the battlefield.

Cassandra was already there and, giving an almighty yell, plunged her sword into the demon’s neck, as Varric’s crossbow found its mark and nailed the demon through the eye. It moaned, slumping backwards before dissipating into the thick green mist.

Cassandra gestured to her, hastily: “Now! Seal the rift!”

She took a deep breath and looked around her. Every eye was fixed on her. She stepped shakily towards the pulsing rift, breaths harsh and heart pounding.

“Do it!” Cassandra encouraged, standing behind her. 

Shaking with trepidation, she lifted her glowing hand towards the rift. Instantly her hand burned with agonising pressure. It spread up her arm, searing, boiling pain, that ripped through her with abandon. She struggled to breathe, to think, so intense was the pain. She realised she was screaming as the torturous pressure built to a crescendo; it was dragging her towards the rift, pulling her, ripping her apart, taking everything from her.

The very air seemed to tremble around them, and with a final scream of effort, she pulled her arm back towards her, and the rift slammed shut, pushing a violent pulse up in to the heavens, and sending her reeling backwards on jittery legs, choking for air. Her arm was on fire, hanging limply by her side; there was no way she hadn’t damaged everything from little finger to collarbone. She felt pulverised, inside and out.

She staggered back as cheers filled the air. The chant of _I will not pass out, I will not pass out_ , became a hazy memory, as black flickered in the edges of her green-filled vision and she flopped onto the ground; boneless, exhausted, spent.

****

Her eyes, gritty and dry, peeled themselves open and she stared, nonplussed at the unfamiliar ceiling above her. The light pouring in from the window informed her that it was day-time.

She was getting really tired of waking up in pain and in a place she didn’t recognise. At least this time she was in a bed. And there were no chains.

_There’s a joke in there somewhere_ , she thought, absent-mindedly. She pulled herself around to sit on the bed, and stilled with a pained breath, trying to regain her equilibrium as the room swam. Her movement jostled her hand – thank all the deities of all the religions, it was not nearly as painful as before – and her head, which was experiencing the mother of all headaches. She would literally kill for some water.

She tried to think back as to how she got here. Nearing the end of her journey to the Conclave, although hazy, was still there, but everything after that was a blank, with flashes of fear and green and the outline of a glowing woman, until she woke up in chains. 

She flipped through her memories, skipping over mentions of magic quickly, and focusing on the rifts and the thing in her hand. The second rift had been just as painful as the first, perhaps more so because of how tense and afraid she had been before closing it. Solas had nearly got another slap for his proclamation that she was becoming ‘quite proficient at this’. Pompous asshole.

Of course, he was nothing to the Chantry official, Roderick. People like him – self-righteous and filled with rage – always made her curl up in fear. They could make life an unending nightmare for no reason, under the veneer of doing good and, if they were particularly effective, got you to question whether it _was_ you who was in the wrong; the sinner, the heathen, the _elf_. Silence had seemed to be the best bet during that fraught conversation, letting Cassandra and Leliana – she finally learnt the name of the hooded woman – deal with his derision and rage, while she attempted to intimidate him with her best withering glare. It, of course, did not help.

It was very much a surprise to her that Cassandra had insisted that she choose the path to the Temple. She had picked the mountain path and regretted it half-way up, sentiments no doubt shared by her team of tag-alongs, who had probably been internally raging at her half-frozen form for their own similar discomfort. Thankfully, this new tension seemed to have mellowed when they saved the missing soldiers, though she did still feel a bit useless. Demons were a new enemy for her, and she spent more time bleating like a scared nug when they popped up out of the shadows of the pass, than being actually useful against them. She kept her distance from the shades and wraiths, just in case of a repeat of the earlier… incident.

The scene that she had seen in the Temple of Sacred Ashes was still completely foreign to her, though she was not surprised that her past self had tried to help the Divine. Unlike most of the other Chantry members she had encountered over the years, the figure of Justinia had been someone she had a grudging respect for. Varric’s fear about the red lyrium in the temple gave her new perspective on him too – clearly he wasn’t just snarky comments and jokes. 

The behaviour of the demon though? That was something she couldn’t fathom, would not think about. It was too terrifying to comprehend. She guessed she must have passed out after managing to deal with the Breach, though she had a distinct feeling that it had not been properly handled. 

Her shoulders sank in dismay. 

She stood, slowly, her legs trembling, and she leaned her hand against the wall for support and breathed deeply. Her eyes were on the jug of water someone had kindly placed just out of reach on a nearby end table. 

She shakily took a step forward, and then another, until her fingers brushed the handle of the jug… and immediately knocked it over as a loud clatter startled her forward. The jug pitched towards the edge of the table, tipping clear, thirst-quenching, life-giving water all over the floor. She breathed in sharply, controlling her ire and mounting desperation for a sip of something fucking wet, and looked to where the noise had come from.

A scared elven girl looked at the surroundings in panic; at the water slowly dripping off the table, to the contents of the box she had dropped at her feet, and back to the figure in front of her. Immediately, she squeaked and dropped to her knees in front of her.

“I’m so sorry, Your Worship. It won’t happen again, I’m so sorry, please forgive me…” The prostrated elven figure piped, clearly terrified out of her wits. “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”

“It’s fine. _Mon Dieu_ , calm down, please.” She croaked, her headache spiking at the level of high-pitched noise the serving-girl was emitting, waving an entreating hand at her.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” The elven girl continued, her gaze on the floor, fear and reverence colouring her tone. Astonishment filled her. This was _really_ different than the first time she had woken with this green shit on her hand.

“What’s going on…?” She asked, bewildered at the treatment she was receiving. “Where am I?”

“You are back in Haven, my Lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the Mark on your hand.” She could practically hear the capitalisation. “It’s all anyone has talked about for the past three days.”

“Three days?” She rubbed her head, the ache still cheerfully pounding away. Sighing, she lowered herself into a nearby chair, groaning again as all of her joints protested at the movement. “No wonder I feel this shit. I don’t suppose there’s any water anywhere else in here? Please?”

Large amber eyes, wary and timid, peeked up at her. “There is another, older pitcher by the door. Should I…”

“Maker, yes please.” She whimpered, slumping in the chair with a cool hand against her forehead. The maid stood and, with a quick curtsey, began to quietly move about the room. Soon enough, a cool beaker of water had been placed in her hand. With previous warnings ringing in her head about guzzling water, she slowly, impatiently, sipped it. She watched, with growing discomfort, as the waifish maid wiped up the spilled water, tidied the contents of her box (her curious nature was soon informed that it mainly consisted medical odds and ends) and straightened out the brocade coverlets on the bed.

“Hey – wait a moment, can you sit with me for a while?” She asked. The maid gave her another of her patented wide-eyed looks of terror. “Please. Watching you go around this room is making my head spin worse.”

“O-of course, my lady,” She mumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed so carefully, it may as well have been made of glass. 

“Please, there’s no need for a title – I’m no lady.” She insisted quietly, still sipping from her cup.

“I couldn’t possibly!” Alarmed, the servant looked up at her, eyes wide and shining in panic, seemingly moments away from bolting from her precarious position on the bed.

“Well, what’s your name? W-what can I call you?” She asked, reconsidering her first question quickly. She was no stranger to not wanting people to poke around in her personal business.

“Liri, just Liri, my lady.” She paused but decided to let the title go for now. 

“Do you know what’s going on around here, Liri? What have I missed while I’ve been asleep?”

“The Breach was not fully closed, and people are still discussing what to do…” Her shoulders sank, and her hands covered her eyes. All that effort, all that pain, for nothing. “I think everyone has been waiting for you to wake up, my lady. The healers and the apostate, Solas, have been in here constantly since It was sealed.”

She groaned again: “Solas was in here?”

“Yes, my lady. He was very respectful.”

“Respectful? Wait…” Sudden horror bloomed, and a shiver rose across her back, as she inspected her new outfit – a loose-fitting shirt and pants. “Who changed my clothes?”

“Aden, Solas and I changed you. You were covered in so much blood and dirt, my lady!” Liri squeaked, horrified at having upset her new mistress so much in such a short space of time. “I’m sorry, my lady, it was necessary!”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to mediate her temper. It would not do to have her first action in an unfamiliar place to storm around and punch a bald elf right in his bald head. She opened her eyes slowly, relieved when the change in light didn’t cause a spike in her headache – in fact it seemed to be receding. Thank the Maker for small mercies.

“I’m sorry, don’t trouble yourself with it…” She sighed and raked her unmarked hand through her hair – or at least tried. Her fingers informed her that though her hair was not the clumped and sweaty bird’s nest she had expected it to be, it was also not having one of its best days. She carefully carded her fingers through the dirty, thick strands, wincing at the multitude of knots, and began to – very loosely – twine it together in some semblance of a braid. 

“I don’t suppose that you know where I could find a comb? Maybe even a bath?” She asked, a little wistfully, raking her gaze over her exposed skin with its patchwork of kaleidoscopic bruises, and shuddering, feeling grimy and stiff with old sweat and dirt. 

Liri stood from the chair with a yelp, her hands anxiously clutched together, moving from foot to foot in agitation. She paused in her plaiting, watching Liri with trepidation. “I forgot, my Lady Herald! Lady Cassandra said she wanted to see you when you awoke. At once, she said!”

“That’s a no to the bath then.” She muttered, pulling the cloth shirt from her abdomen with one hand in distaste, while the other held on to the bottom of her loose braid. “Where on Thedas are my actual clothes… do you know, Liri?”

“I must inform Seeker Pentaghast that you are awake!” Liri seemed almost frantic now and made to leave, totally ignoring her question. Was the Seeker really that scary?

Wait, of course, she was.

“Woah, slow down!” She said to the maid’s retreating back. “What’s going on?”

Liri squeaked (again) and quickly turned around, bobbing a curtsey at her: “My apologies, Lady Herald. You must meet Seeker Pentaghast in the Chantry. It’s the large building at the top of the hill in Haven.” She quickly turned back and left, leaving her in silence and perplexed.

“Lady… what?” She whispered, aghast, her braid now hanging limply down her neck, hair too stiff to properly unravel. 

Well, this did not bode well.

***

The seemingly small distance from her cabin to the Chantry was nothing short of a nightmare. 

Having found some suitable twine in the cabin to tie the ends of her hair and quickly inspecting the rest of the cabin to try and find her clothes, she had only found some scribbles in a very neat hand on the desk and some more odds and ends littered around. She had stroked the thick paper with interest and looked around the rest of the cabin, taking in the bed covers and various glass vials. Whatever was going on in this place, it was clear that they weren’t too short of resources.

She had squared her shoulders, taken a deep breath, and exited the cabin. Nothing could have prepared her for the crowd that waited outside, all of them staring at her and chattering excitedly. 

She wanted to curl up in a ball and hide.

It was bad enough that everyone was _looking_ , but she hadn’t so much as splashed her face with water in… what, five or six days? She must look disgusting. She certainly felt it.

A furious blush rose up what felt like her entire body, and her hands trembled. She noticed the guards standing down the path leading from the cabin, hands held across their chests. She took another tremulous breath and made her way down the path, head held up, averting her gaze from anyone else’s. 

“That’s the Herald of Andraste!” Someone loudly told another, cutting above the general chatter of the crowd. Her heart stuttered and she nearly tripped over her own feet. There it was again! What was this ‘Herald’ nonsense? 

“That’s her! She stopped the Breach from getting any bigger!” Someone else exclaimed. 

Well, at least they weren’t mad that she hadn’t finished the job properly, she thought sourly. No tomatoes this time.

She quickened her pace, breaking free from the crowd of people, and practically jogged up the sets of stone steps towards the imposing stone building in front of her. It looked much different in the soft morning light than in the harsh green of the Breach the last time she was here. She pushed the door open, past the robe-clad line of Chanty members, and hurried inside, ignoring the twinge of pain in her marked hand, eager to be away from the eyes of the multitude of people who filled the streets of Haven. The quiet hush of the candle-filled Chantry was a blessing after the nerve-wracking experience outside. She took a fortifying breath and headed towards the doors at the back, the low murmur of noise turning into the dulcet tones of Cassandra’s rage. 

“I do not believe that!” Echoed the determined voice through the crack of the door.

Whoever was going toe to toe with Cassandra had her sympathies.

“That is not for you to decide!”

Wait… wasn’t that that pasty dick, Roderick?

“Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

Hah, and to think she had begun to feel sorry for the subject of Cassandra’s anger. He really was a condescending prick. She certainly wouldn’t have the brass balls to tell Cassandra what to do.

“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.” Came the stern reply. 

She really was immovable, she thought, as she considered the words of the Seeker, coming to a stop just outside the door. She wished she had that kind of faith in, well, anything. 

Now that she knew what and who was part of the conversation behind this thin wooden barrier, she felt her resolve to go past it waver. Did she really want to be screamed at and accused again? Alternatively, she could go hide in her cabin and pretend to be asleep…

The thought of walking _back_ through those crowds of people, and Cassandra bodily dragging her from the cabin – no doubt in her mind she could and would – made her momentarily shudder. She quickly looked around the rest of the Chantry, taking in the curious looks of the few Sisters inside and the faint sounds of scribbling from the door next to her, and realised she also looked deeply suspicious by loitering outside a door clearly meant for important people.

That made up her mind for her.

She stepped through the door quickly and took in the room. A guard stood to attention at either side of the door. Roderick stood to the side of the room, arms clenched at his sides, while Cassandra and Leliana were at the centre of the table, the former bent over pieces of parchment, the latter seemingly unconcerned and surveying the room with disinterest, arms folded. If she could read a room – and she really hoped that she could, right at this moment – it seemed like the two women held the upper hand. At the sound of her entrance, they all turned to look; Roderick seemed like he was about to start frothing at the mouth. 

Why on Thedas are the guards inside the room instead of outside, protecting them from eavesdroppers, she wondered, taking a step away from them cautiously. One look at the Chancellor’s puce face gave her a slight indication on that matter.

“Ah ha! Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.” Roderick announced, pointing at her, face triumphant.

Her stomach dropped and a cold sweat started to form across her skin. What had she willingly walked into?

“Disregard that order and leave us.” Cassandra ordered, her tone calm, but her expression was one of exasperation and irritation. The depth of the frown line between her eyebrows rivalled only that of when Varric was speaking to her.

The guards, to her internal delight and relief, bowed briefly to the Seeker and left the room. If that didn’t confirm what she had already hoped, nothing else would.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Roderick scowled, his ruddy cheeks once again flaming with embarrassment and anger. She watched in awe as Cassandra, marched up to the Chancellor at the end of the table and firmly argued her point about the Breach. The candlelight from the table flickered with the movement, deepening the shadow made by the impressive scar on her cheek.

Terrifying, immovable and badass. She wanted to be Cassandra when she grew up.

At the Chancellor’s unimpressed look, largely directed her way, she heard herself saying, defensively: “I did everything I could! Really, I… it almost killed me.”

Fuck, what happened to being cold and impassive when it came to the Chancellor? He would twist and turn everything she said; use it as ammunition to further his own interests.

“Interesting then, that you still live. What a convenient result for you.” He said dryly, his lip curled.

Oh, how she loved being proved right.

To her relief, Cassandra and Leliana interrupted smoothly, pointing out the indications of there being another suspect; another actor and allies at play within this monstrous event.

Roderick seemed to see where Leliana, who was eyeing him with intent, was headed: “ _I_ am a suspect?” He gasped, outraged. “How dare you, you…”

“Now, now, Chancellor.” Leliana said silkily, eyes glittering. “I did not say _just_ you. But you, and many others, have reason, have motive.”

“But not the prisoner?” He turned back on her, apoplectic with rage, his pulse visibly jumping in his neck and eyes bulging impressively. She leaned back, despite herself, disconcerted.

“We saw the vision in the Temple; heard the voices. Divine Justina reached out to her for help.” Cassandra said sternly, placing herself between her and Roderick, in a clear show of support.

“So. Her survival. That… _thing_ on her hand. That’s all just coincidence is it? I’m just supposed to believe that?” He snarled, pounding the table with his fist.

“I would hope that you would look at this more clearly. But it matters not what you believe, Chancellor.” Cassandra shook her head, her own hands now planted on the end of the table. “I believe it to be providence. The Maker sent us what we needed at our darkest hour.”

_Surely she couldn’t mean me?_ She thought, panic once again tinging her thoughts.

They all fixed their gazes on her.

_Oh, shit_.

“Do you really think the Maker would send someone… well, someone like me? I’m no one, I’m not even… I’m not even that faithful.” She mumbled, her heart beating faster at being the centre of attention at such a strained moment.

“The Maker does as He wills. It is not for me to say.” Cassandra held her gaze for a long moment. Weirdly, she felt reassured by that sentiment and, if she was honest, by Cassandra’s faith.

“Even if that means a half-elf is his chosen?” She ventured, curious to hear what her response would be.

“Humans are not the only people with an interest in the fate of the world.” Possibly Cassandra’s faith veered a bit towards the arrogant side, but still, it was good to have her vocal support. She, at least, wasn’t a flagrant racist, unlike…

“A _half-elf_!” Roderick hissed, enflamed once again. “Would it not be enough that she was a full-blooded one, but now we have some rabbit mongrel in our midst?” 

“Chancellor!” Cassandra gasped.

“That is _enough_ , Chancellor.” Leliana snapped, her voice like steel. “I apologise for the Chancellor’s language, and his sentiment. It is not shared by Cassandra and myself.”

She nodded, curtly, a cold, familiar anger within her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard much worse, but she couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting.

“The Breach remains.” Leliana said, eyeing the fuming Chancellor askance, as Cassandra moved to the bookcase behind them. “And your Mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

“This is _not_ for you to decide.” The Chancellor blustered, clearly not at all shamed by their earlier comments.

Cassandra snarled with impatience and whirled around to slam a huge book down on the table: “Do you know what this is, Chancellor?”

“I-I…”

“It is a writ from the Divine,” Cassandra explained lowly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving on the stuttering official, “Granting us the authority to act.”

“As of this moment,” She stated, after a short pause, voice firm with conviction, “I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

Roderick gasped. 

“We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order.” Cassandra walked towards him purposefully as he backed away, eyes wide and disbelieving. “With or without your approval.” She finished, her gauntleted fingers prodding him emphatically. 

If possible, Roderick’s expression became more enraged with every poke. Nostrils flaring, he shook his head and turned his back on them, leaving the room as quickly as he could and slamming the door behind him.

She watched as Cassandra sighed and ran her fingers through her short, inky hair. She couldn’t imagine having all that responsibility on her shoulders. What she knew of the original Inquisition was formed of half-remembered sermons from compulsory Chantry masses – it was a force for change, that much she certainly knew.

“This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready – we have no leader, no numbers,” Leliana sighed heavily, “And now, no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice.” Cassandra said, resting her hand on Leliana’s arm in a silent show of support and comfort. “We must act now.” She looked at her, her dark gaze steady. “With you at our side.”

“I will try but… we’ll see how this goes…” She said, both wary and awe-struck by the scene she had just witnessed.

“That is all we ask.” Leliana said, inclining her head.

“Help us fix this before it’s too late” Cassandra asked, leaning forward, her arm outstretched. She hesitated for a moment, and then reached forward to shake her hand firmly. Cassandra’s slight smile at her answer reassured her more than any words could at that moment.

It felt like an irrevocable change already.

“Well, let us move on to an easier question, now that the hardest one has been answered.” Leliana moved back to the table with enviable grace and looked her up and down. She really wished she wasn’t so grubbily turned out, especially for such a momentous event, though it was certainly not the dirtiest she’d ever been. The two women opposite her were so clean and polished that they probably squeaked. “Forgive me for not asking sooner. What is your name?”

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, though this was quickly foiled by the number of knots and folds in it. Fuck it. “If you were to look, you would find me under Adelaide in Orlais.”

Leliana paused for a moment, surprised. “That is an answer that gives more questions than information.” She stated, giving her a firm look. “I will find out whatever it is, so it would be quicker just to tell me, no?”

“Fine.” She glared at the table, knowing how much lower the mood – and the potential for their good opinion – could be soon. “When I was young my mother gave me as payment to someone she owed money to. My mistress had not asked for my name, so she named me Adelaide, Addie. Satisfied?”

“Not quite, though I see why this may be more complicated now.” Leliana was quiet for a moment, contemplating. “What kind of work would you do for this mistress?”

“I looked after the family’s animals – horses and the like.”

Leliana nodded, though her face was still a blank canvas. “Earlier, you said ‘in Orlais’. Have you names elsewhere?”

“I… I left my mistress about a year ago. I have been trying on a few names since then, but few have stuck.”

“Names? Such as?”

“A friend of mine thought I might originally be from Antiva – she called me Asha.” Leliana hummed but waited for her to continue. “A couple of people knew me as Dido. And, I guess I’m Sunflower now too.”

“More?” Leliana asked, expectantly.

“I hardly keep a list of what people call me. Usually ‘Hey, knife-ear’ suffices.” She said, glowering now.

“Where is your mistress now?”

“Dead, I assume.”

“You assume?” All Leliana received there was a terse nod. “So unusual for an indentured servant to simply leave her mistress… What was her name?”

“Lady Mainserai.” Leliana stiffened and her eyes widened.

“What of your parents?” Cassandra asked disapprovingly, when Leliana stayed silent.

“Probably dead too. I can’t remember them in any case.” She realised her hands were shaking again and folded them behind her back, and snapped defensively; “Are we done? I thought I had just agreed to be _part_ of the Inquisition, not what it was aimed at.”

“Not quite.” Leliana spoke again, eyes narrowed. “Cassandra said you were a mage? I find it hard to bel…”

“I’m _not_ a mage.” She said emphatically, fingers clenched together. “I’m not.”

“I saw you, I _felt_ you set that wraith on fire.” Cassandra argued. “There was no one else on that ice, it must have been you.”

Addie paused, breathing becoming erratic with panic. She spoke quickly, quietly. “I was so scared. I’d never seen a demon before. I don’t clearly remember what happened. But I… I’ve never so much as felt a flicker of magic before. Not that I would even know what that feels like.”

Cassandra rubbed her forehead, seemingly drained. “I believe you. But you must believe that there is something different about you now.”

“Yes, I’ve become a permanent cure for people scared of the dark.” She responded testily, wiggling her marked hand at the room in general.

“Do not make light of this,” Leliana warned, probably not intending the pun. “Things are hard enough, no?”

“I gathered that much.” She snapped.

Leliana narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to argue, but Cassandra intervened: “Enough for now… Adelaide. Perhaps we can get Solas’ opinion on the matter.” Addie ground her teeth. Oh, joy. That should brighten her day. “We will speak later, in about an hour. Do not go far.”

“ _Putain, je suis crevé_!” She muttered churlishly, turning from the table. 

“Ah, Adelaide? A moment?” Leliana called.

She paused – _what now?_ – and tilted her head back towards them, hot emotions still coursing through her.

“I am sure you wish to get out of those old clothes. I had your servant leave some items in your cabin.” Irritation bubbled in her at the casual way Leliana discussed these things with her. Prickly she may be, but it shouldn’t be too much to assume that, having just talked about her previous occupation, she might be a bit sensitive towards ‘having’ an elven servant.

She nodded, grimacing, and stormed through the Chantry, taking care to slam the door. This, however, didn’t quite work with the last door – if anyone saw a red-faced and sore-handed Herald slink away from the Chantry, they didn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos etc on the last chapter, guys! 
> 
> I’m labouring under the impression that Seekers and Templars can ‘sense’ magic use and, when concentrating, can sense magical ability. Anyone know if this is/isn’t true?
> 
> I realise this isn’t really the place for politics, but any fellow Brits out there – fucking hell…
> 
> (Translations: _Mon Dieu!_ My God (Maker)!  
>  _Putain, je suis crevé_ \- I am so fucking tired.)


	3. I hope there's a damn good punchline coming

Nodding a greeting to Varric, who waved enthusiastically at her, she strode past the camp-fire towards her cabin. She was intent on trying to go back to sleep after the conversation – no, interrogation – which had somehow managed to bring up some of the blackest memories that she had from the past two decades of her life. 

A sudden thought hit her like a thunderclap and she double-backed, wide-eyed.

“Wait, Varric _Tethras_?” She said, slowly, staring him down.

“Yeah, Sunflower? What do you need?” He asked, eyes crinkling as he smiled questioningly at her. He put down his quill and notebook and looked at her expectantly.

“No, I mean, you’re _Varric Tethras_.” She said, emphasising his name excitedly.

“How hard did you pass out earlier? I think we did this part already.” He said, nonplussed but smiling at her expression regardless. 

“You’re the _author_!” She practically squeaked in excitement and flopped down next to him, regarding him with wide eyes: “I can’t believe it, I’m sat next to _Varric Tethras_!”

“Ahhh, so you’re a fan, huh?” He said, realisation, and amusement, colouring his tone. “Hah. The Herald of Andraste is a fan of my work. I should tell my publisher about my new endorsement.” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t put this together earlier. Must have been, you know, the blinding pain and demons distracting me.” She mused, eyes following his face avidly.

“It’s not a huge d…” 

“I loved _Hard in Hightown_!” She interrupted, enthusiastically. “And we were about halfway through _The Tale of the Champion_ , you know up until… this. Anyway, I loved it. It was like nothing else…” She sighed longingly. “Wish I’d had a chance to finish it…”

“Tell you what, Sunflower. For that reaction, I’ll give you a signed copy. How about that?”

“Yes! And… it’s Adelaide. My friends tend to call me Addie.” She said, with a tentative smile at the dwarf, suddenly abashed by her attitude when they first met.

“As much as this is the part where I should say something like, “Well, I guess I’ll call you Addie then’, I think I’m going to stick with Sunflower.” He patted her on the knee, smiling all the while.

“I suppose you knew this was coming but why Sunflower?” She asked, head cocked to one side.

“Awwh, come on – the hair, the eyes? Pretty as a picture behind the scowl, and I knew once I could get you to smile that it would be like the sun shining out from beneath the clouds.” Varric gave her a cheeky wink to match his shit-eating grin.

“By the Maker’s low-hanging ballsack… what a load of shit!” She hooted with laughter, patting her blonde hair a bit self-consciously. Varric’s wide-eyed look at her language soon turned into chuckles of his own. “You writers are something else, you know?”

“I dunno, Sunflower, you got quite a way with words too.” He said, still chortling.

“So, how about a tour around Haven?” Addie asked excitedly, energised by her discovery and eager to bask in her favourite author’s company. This might be considered a stretch, as she only knew of the one author, but still, a celebrity was a celebrity, right? And she was definitely a little starstruck. “I only know three places: where I woke up, the Chantry with its oh-so-charming dungeons, and this campfire.”

“Walking tour of Haven? Let’s go, kid.” He said, heaving himself up. “Obviously, the most important place is the tavern, but I think we should _end_ the tour with that one.”

“I’m going to go for a drink with Varric Tethras.” She said dreamily, giggling and following him through the snowy paths. “Somebody pinch me.”

“So, do you know what this whole…” She waved a hand about expressively as they walked, “‘Herald’ thing is about then? The ‘Herald of Andraste’?”

“Well, yeah.” He looked at her, puzzled. “Didn’t Cassandra and Leliana explain?”

“No, they were a bit too busy taking a trip down Memory Lane.” She scowled, still irritated about her impromptu interview.

“The soldiers who found you by the rift in the Temple – they swore up and down that a woman was behind you, that she had pushed you out of it. After you started sealing shit – doing what seemed impossible – people started to talk; maybe that woman was Andraste and she sent you here to be our saviour.”

Addie’s eyes were round as she stopped in the middle of the path and stared at the dwarf, taking it all in. He smirked at her expression.

“Looks like you’re an icon, kid.”

“Well, shit.” Addie said, looking around furtively, as they continued traversing the steps. “These people actually think that?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Varric replied, chuckling. “I dunno about _all_ of them, there’s plenty of doubters.”

“By the Maker…” She said, still dumbfounded.

Varric merely laughed again and pointed out Threnn as the quartermaster, noting her useful position, and advising her to avoid certain Chantry sisters clustered outside the imposing building. Privately, Addie thought he need not have said anything – Chantry business was always to be avoided if possible. They saw Leliana come out of the double doors; as she passed them, she inclined her head politely and headed to the tent opposite, discussing something avidly with another hooded figure, and carrying two – three? – ravens. 

They walked a little further toward a cluster of wooden houses and Addie turned to observe the village from the higher vantage point, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. Leliana was still watching them, she noticed, dark eyes glittering underneath her hood as she gave some instructions to the person with her. Unnerved, Addie turned her attention back to Varric’s description, tuning in as he began pointing out the buildings that contained the apothecary, Aden, and Solas.

“Not everyone gets their own house here. You’re sleeping in the tent next to the campfire, right?” 

“Yup. Are you about to ask me why Chuckles gets his own place?” Addie said nothing, but her expression certainly betrayed her thoughts on the matter. “He made himself pretty indispensable; seems to have a bit of a knack with that mark on your hand. Whereas me, well, I’m just glad that I’m not in those dungeons. I’d say it was a pretty near miss.”

“Trust me. They aren’t the best place to wake up.” She muttered darkly, still pretty sore about her initial treatment. Varric patted her arm and led her back down the path.

“How are you feeling about your new friends here in Haven? Cassandra and Chuckles grown on you at all?”

“The less said about _him_ the better. But, I respect Cassandra quite a bit actually. She’s quick to jump to conclusions but she’s… what’s the word… terrifyingly competent.” Addie reflected, ignoring Varric’s snort. “They – her and Leliana, I mean – don’t seem to like me that much. Not that it matters, I suppose. I told them I would help them close the Breach and that’s all that really matters. We’re not exactly warm and fuzzy. You don’t get over something like that quickly.” 

“Over what?”

“Thinking that the person in front of you killed your mentor, your friend.” She said, eyes downcast, picking spare threads off her sleeve. 

“It’s fairly obvious you didn’t though, right? That scene in the Temple…”

“Sure, but first impressions and accusations are hard to dismiss, Varric.” She sighed and rubbed her head. “And I still can’t remember what happened. There’s just… nothing.”

“It’ll come back, Sunflower. Have a bit of faith.”

Addie snorted and gestured to the green tear in the sky. “Faith’s a bit in short supply these days, Varric.”

“Oh, hey, that’s good! Nice and dramatic. That’s going in the book.” She blinked, taken aback, and then squealed in surprised delight.

“I might leave out all the shrieking and girly noises though…” He said over the exclamations of ‘being in a book like the Champion’ and she slapped his arm, grinning. 

His personal mission of distracting a mopey Herald complete, he smiled and said, “Just kidding, Sunflower. Come on, on with the tour. Obviously that’s your bit over there, and some other sleeping quarters, not sure who’s in there yet. I’ll find out so we can nosy on your neighbours later.”

He led them down towards the wall and began pointing out some of the small buildings and features scattered near the gates. 

“That over there is Seggrit’s shop. Bastard has really upped his prices after the Conclave. Something about ‘scarcity of goods’, but I think he can probably just smell a profitable scenario from a mile off. I guess most merchants can smell the blood in the water.”

Addie nodded in agreement and gave the shop a wide berth as they headed through the gates. The scene in front of her brought her up short. Varric turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Something wrong?”

“There’s a lot of soldiers out here,” she murmured, eyes darting between the armoured figures.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“I just… I just didn’t realise that we were surrounded by soldiers. That’s all.” She took a deep breath and shrugged, throwing a small smile at Varric. “It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Uh huh.” He said, disbelief colouring his tone. “Come on, Sunflower, I’ll show you the blacksmith.” 

The clanging of hammers on metal brought a welcome distraction, and she looked around entranced.

“This is so impressive!” She said loudly over the noise, “I’ve never been inside one of these before. It’s so loud! And hot!”

Varric looked at her quizzically. “You’ve never seen a blacksmith’s before?”

“From a distance,” She shrugged, still looking around with rapt interest.

“Well, that’s Harritt over there.” He said, gesturing to a bald but impressively moustached man, sweating and hammering at a worktable. “He’s the guy in charge – you need something made or repaired, you go see him.”

Addie tried to lean around the people and miscellaneous kit to see what he was working on but quickly made her way out of the busy portico when she bumped into several, subsequently scowling, workmen. She sent a sheepish look to Varric who rolled his eyes and followed her out.

They walked a little further down the path, Varric pointing out the eastern gate that led up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. She shuddered, wondering when she would next have to go through that gate, and turned her back on it decisively, determined not to worry about it at that moment.

A rustle in the bushes caught her attention, and she took a few steps towards it warily.

She clucked delightedly as a tiny pink nug scampered across the path, and knelt to beckon it over hopefully. The nug cast about indecisively for a few moments, sniffing this way and that, before padding over cautiously over to Addie. 

“I wish I had something to give you, _mon petite chou-chou_.” She cooed, as the nug tremulously sniffed her outstretched hand, its little nose and whiskers twitching in tandem. She scratched its head and it trilled delightedly for a moment before backing away.

Disappointed in the lack of food on offer, it bounded off into the bushes and Addie smiled wistfully as she stood back up, brushing the snow from her dampened knees. 

“Bit of an animal lover are you, Sunflower?”

“It’s what I used to do; what I was good at. Animals seem to like me, and I like looking after them too.” 

“Used to do?” He asked, as they strolled back past the blacksmith.

“My mistress used to keep a… well, a menagerie might not be too far off. She had a summer estate some miles west of Halamshiral; that’s mainly where I was.”

“A summer estate, huh? Fancy.”

“That’s not a terrible way to describe her.” She said, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Well, it ain’t much to look at right now, but these are the stables.” Varric said, indicating the wide building next to the gates. 

Addie felt her face splitting into a broad grin and she instantly walked into the stables, relishing the damp smell of hay, the pungent tang of horse manure and quiet lull, broken only by the occasional nicker. She could only hear the dull echo of the swords clashing and yelling outside now.

There were only a few mounts at present and she greeted each one of them gently, with an open palm for them to sniff and a soft rub of their nose, if they looked agreeable. She felt herself buoyed by feelings of peace, along with a weird sense of nostalgia.

She had hated her past position, but she still wondered what became of the animals that she had loved and dedicated most of her life to caring for.

Varric looked bemused by her elated reaction as she entered. Looking on as she nuzzled at one of the horses’ nose adoringly, he said. “There isn’t a proper stablemaster yet. I’m not sure you want to take that on as well, do you?”

“I’ve a mind to if the powers that be don’t sort this out. I’d say it could do with some improvement.” She said critically, eyeing patches of damp in the wooden walls, and manure that had not yet been shovelled. At least they were all well-fed and watered. She wondered when the last time they had been exercised was.

She gave a final pat to the chestnut horse in front of her and made her way out of the stables. “Who do these horses belong to?”

Varric paused for a moment. “I guess they belong to the Inquisition now. Most of those who arrived with horses were up at the Temple, and some of them were taken up there too…”

“Oh…” She looked crestfallen. Varric cursed under his breath. 

“I’m sure care of these horses is top of the list, Sunflower. They’re too important, and expensive, to neglect.” He said, hoping to reassure her. She nodded, eyes still weary, and she sighed, moving to sit on the bench in front of the stables. Varric joined her, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, the sun warming their faces.

“You know a friend of mine said that she knew you once.” Addie said absently, looking around the surroundings of the outside of Haven, eyes focusing beyond the practicing masses on to the snow-covered trees and the icy glint of the lake.

“Oh yeah? Were they as starstruck as you are?” Varric grinned, poking her in the ribs. She swatted his hand away, a small smile lighting up her features.

“Definitely not.” She huffed a laugh. “She did excellent impressions of you and Hawke when she was reading though. At least, she said they were.”

“She knew Hawke too? Who was this?” Varric asked, head cocked curiously.

“Excuse me, Herald?” A small voice interrupted them. Addie groaned at the name and turned to face the speaker, to find Liri fidgeting a few feet from them.

“Seeker Pentaghast is looking for you.” Liri told her, eyes averted. “She is holding a meeting in the Chantry.”

“I guess this ‘holy’ thing doesn’t get me out of being bossed around.” Addie sighed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Liri, walk with me? I think I’m still likely to get lost.”

“See ya round, Sunflower.”

“Don’t forget about that drink, Varric.” She called back, waving at him. “So, Liri, did she look angry? Have I somehow offended her again in the… hour or so I’ve been gone?”

The blush on Liri’s pale skin practically purpled. “Herald…”

“Please don’t call me that, Liri.” She said, pained. “It’s Adelaide, Addie preferably.”

Liri looked like she’d rather jump face first into the icy lake and they walked through the gates in silence for a few seconds until Addie relented.

“ _D’accord_ … how about Herald in public, Addie in private? Please? I’ll go mad otherwise.”

“If… if you insist, Herald.” Liri said quietly, fingers twitching at her side. “The Nightingale had me deliver some clothes and fresh water to your cabin earlier, would you like to change?”

“ _Ah ouais_!” She exclaimed. “I’ve never heard better news.”

A tiny smile crept on to Liri’s face and she bobbed into a curtsey, leading them back to her cabin.

***  
“Uh… Liri?” 

“Yes, my Lady H- oh.”

“Yeah… it’s a little… tight.”

“My apologies, my la-Adelaide. The Nightingale gave me the clothes; I should not have assumed it would fit.”

“Who the ever-loving frig is this ‘nightingale’?” She grumbled. She made a talky-face with her hand, her own expression screwed up in annoyance. “‘Elves are all the same teeny-weeny size, right’… fuckers.”

“The Nightingale is Sister Leliana, my l- excuse me, Adelaide.” Liri told her, pulling this way and that on the dress fabric stretched across her hips.

“ _Fous-toi_!” Addie hissed at the buttons of the undershirt, as they strained over her breasts, one of the middle ones popping back open as she leaned around to try to fasten the dress’s ties. “ _Fils de pute_!”

“Let’s do these laces, that will probably help.” Liri reasoned, nimble fingers lacing up the front of her dress. She pulled tight at the bottom, causing Addie to gasp and hold onto the table next to her, and then pulled and twisted the ties over her chest. Securely fastened, she then fiddled with the undershirt. Stepping back, she looked her up and down, nodding her satisfaction.

“Wow, that’s… impressive.” Addie said, eyeing the top of her cleavage. It was much closer to her chin than it had been previously. “Though I am not confident in the structural integrity of this dress.” She laughed hollowly, walking across the room, still eyeing herself apprehensively.

“Just don’t jump?” Liri offered tentatively, looking at her nervously.

Addie choked with surprised laughter, caught off-guard: “Good advice,” she managed, still giggling. 

Trying to bend to tie on the supplied shoes was quickly proving to be… undignified, so Liri helped her to put them on, with no small amount of wobbling and complaining from Addie.

“Well, at least it’s about the right length.” Addie reasoned, looking down at herself, evaluating. She tugged her hand through her hair and then immediately wished she hadn’t. Ugh. At least she’d been able to have a quick wipe with a washcloth before changing.

“I think the green suits you very well... Adelaide.” Liri bobbed her head again. “I will have dinner and hopefully a bath waiting for you when you return.”

“You are my saviour, Liri. Thank you so much – are you sure it’s not a bother?” Liri blushed and shuffled about, adjusting the folds on Addie’s dress.

“Of course, my lady. I think you will be late if you do not leave now.” She said quietly, face still flushed. “Shall I take you there?”

“Thank you Liri, I appreciate it.” She followed Liri, holding her skirts in one hand and the other wiggling hunks of the straining shirt up to cover more of her breasts. It was not going well.

***  
Liri walked her to the doors of the Chantry, relayed further quiet instructions to go to the room at the end of the building, and then excused herself. Addie watched as she made her way back down the snowy steps and wondered what she would be doing with the rest of her day. Surely this teenaged girl wasn’t around merely to run after her and do her bidding, was she? She found herself horrified by the idea of being waited on, especially by someone who, for a few exceptional circumstances, could have been her.

Someone had nailed a long piece of parchment to the door. Huh, that was new. A spikey eye seemed to stare straight at her, and she paused wondering what it was and feeling anew the scope of her ignorance. What exactly had she got herself into?

She pushed her way into the Chantry, again taken aback by the cloistered silence after the bright noise of Haven; the slight swish of robes on stone floors, the murmur of low voices in muttered conversations, the flickering hiss of a hundred candles, and the subdued sounds of prayers coming through cracks in the doors lining the long hall. 

“Ah Adelaide, I was just about to send someone to find you.” Leliana spotted her first. She was stood with Cassandra, who straightened from leaning against a column when she saw her.

“Herald, what on Thedas are you wearing?” Cassandra said, observing her outfit disdainfully.

“It seems someone wasn’t aware that those of elven heritage can have _tits_.” She hissed at Leliana. She pointed at her chest, accusingly. “Look at these things – I could have someone’s eye out!”

An awkward cough in the background alerted her to the fact that she was not as quiet as she might have hoped. 

“Herald!” Cassandra sounded scandalised.

“I apologise, Herald. I will try to find some more appropriate clothing for you. Shall we go in?” Leliana asked indicating the room behind them. Addie sighed and shrugged, regretting the motion instantly, as Leliana and Cassandra’s gazes were inadvertently drawn to her ‘heaving bosom’.

_Fuck’s sake._

She may as well get all this over with so she could get some dinner and a proper bath. She nodded to the door in assent, and they all made to enter.

_Focus on the good things, Addie._

Leliana hesitated, and then turned back to mutter, “If someone bets you that you can’t touch your elbows behind your back, I wouldn’t take them up on it.”

She scowled, irritated. That’s the joke she would have made too.

Leliana smirked all the way into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to split this chapter into two as it was running away with itself, so there should be another update shortly!  
> (Translations: _mon petite chou-chou_ \- sweetheart (lit. my little cabbage)  
>  _D’accord_ \- ok  
>  _Ah ouais_ – yeah! An enthusiastic reaction  
>  _Fous-toi_ – Fuck you  
>  _Fils de pute_ – Son of a whore)


	4. That's an impressive bunch of titles

Cassandra held the door open for them both and closed it behind Addie as she walked in, absently rubbing the wrist of her marked hand.

“Does it trouble you still? You look much better.”

Was that a compliment? Or just a comment on how close to death she had looked earlier?

“I could do without the glowing shit on my hand, but it no longer feels like my hand is being slowly split open so I’m counting that as a win, thanks.”

Cassandra smiled: “We take our victories where we can. What is important is that your Mark is now stable, as is the Breach.”

“Hear, hear.” Came a male voice within the room. She turned to see that Leliana had taken her customary pose around the table, with a dark-haired woman in a shiny, ruffled – why? – dress and possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her entire life.

By the Maker’s giant, throbbing member. He was gorgeous. And looking straight at her. 

She took in his swept-back golden hair that was begging her to run her hands through, his prominent cheekbones and angular jawline that were surely carved by holy hands, and his amber eyes, glinting in the candlelight. His lips were pulled up by a thin, jagged scar; she was taken aback by a sudden, intense longing to run her tongue over it. The weird red fur arranged around his shoulders gave her pause for a confused moment, but was soon ignored in favour of what seemed to be attractively broad shoulders beneath his military attire, tapering down into an impressive physique. 

Andraste as her witness, she wanted to climb him like a tree.

She quickly looked away, begging her body not to betray her immediate reaction to this man. Thankfully her tanned skin gave her a little defence against the blush threatening to cover her entire body. She felt the ridiculous urge to fan herself. Even her toes felt hot.

“Ah yes, this is Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”

_Oh, good. Beautiful_ and _pessimistic_ , she thought, trying to keep an appropriately blank face. That combination never did bode well for her raging hormones. She wanted to hug that sad look straight off his face… in private… without clothes on… 

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.” She wrenched her mind back into the room with some difficulty.

“ _Andaran atish’an._ ”

Addie, distracted and off-balance, was unimpressed. “ _Je suis Orlesian, Ambassadrice, je ne suis pas Dalish_.”

“Oh, forgive me! I should not have assumed...” She said quickly, her voice high with embarrassment. “Even some of the city elves speak it, I just…” She trailed off, looking to Leliana for help.

“It is of no matter.” Addie said quickly, although her piqued temper begged to differ. She decided to offer an olive branch, to keep the tension in the room as low as possible. “Maybe you could teach me one of these days.”

“I’m afraid you just heard the entirety of my knowledge on the subject.” Josephine acknowledged, her caramel features darkening with a blush.

_So awkward…_

Leliana filled the thickening silence: “My position here involves a degree of...

“She is our spymaster.” Cassandra said, bluntly.

“Yes. Thank you for that tactful assessment, Cassandra. Would you like to shout it from the rooftops next time?” Leliana rolled her eyes, irritated. Cassandra merely shrugged.

“It is my pleasure to meet you all.” Addie said, politely. That’s what it was to be polite in society, right? To lie through your teeth? 

Since she had met them, she had been imprisoned, insulted, threatened, nearly died twice, insulted some more, and was on the verge of performing an act of public indecency, if he was of a mind.

But at least she was polite.

“We were discussing possibilities for the next step.” Cassandra began, “You have bought us sorely needed time with your efforts. We think – and Solas theorises – that your Mark may need more power to close the Breach for good.” 

“More power?” She didn’t like the sound of that. Anything involving Solas usually included a whole lot of pain. Her fingers played with the long sleeves of her shirt, anxiously, her marked hand spasming with her renewed attention on the slight ache.

“The same level of power that was used to open the Breach in the first place… but would not be easy to come by.”

“Sure, what harm could there be in powering up something we don’t understand…” She deadpanned.

“Hold on to that sense of humour of yours, Herald.” Cassandra said, with a wry smile. “You will have need of it.”

She smiled back, glad to have at least some positive interaction here. “So, where am I going to get this magical ‘power’ from?”

“It does not need to be magical.” The Commander spoke up from his corner of the table, a stern frown furrowing his features. 

She wanted to smooth the frown lines from his forehead; stroke, kiss them away, to nibble on that scar on his mouth. She wondered how his skin would taste, how strong his grasp would be on her as they… She felt herself start to flush again at the visuals her brain was so unhelpfully providing her. 

“We could approach the Templars.”

Well, that was a bucket of cold water.

Cassandra and Addie exchanged quick glances. The Templars? Considering what had happened out in the valley – that wild, unexplained bit of magic, and not to mention the Pride demon, which hopefully only Solas had noticed – she wasn’t sure surrounding herself with apparent magic haters, the Chantry’s bullies of choice, was the best course of action.

Thankfully Cassandra took to the fore with: “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that Mark-”

“Might destroy us all!” The Commander insisted. His pout was doing ridiculous things to her insides. “Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana interrupted, coolly.

“ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.” 

“You were?” The squeak erupted from her mouth without her even really noticing it. Her stomach had suddenly dropped to somewhere around her knees.

“I… yes. I left the Templar Order some months ago.”

She gulped, rapidly incredibly uneasy. She examined him again, more carefully, taking in the stance, the scars, the armour. 

There, on his arm. His vambraces bore the flaming sword of the Templars. She felt herself tense even further.

He noticed her eyes on his arm and fidgeted with the vambrace, finally letting his hand rest on his sword pommel. Potential jokes aside – everyone loved a good penis-sword pun, right? – Addie really wished she was anywhere else right now. Surely her place here, maybe even her life, had just become much more precarious.

“I still think the Templars may not be the best course of action.” Cassandra said, eyeing Addie closely. “We have a slight… situation with our Herald.”

Addie’s eyes shot to her, silently begging her not to say anything. There wasn’t even anything _to_ say! And certainly not to a sword-happy, would-be templar.

“A situation?” Asked Josephine, pen poised over her board delicately, looking to Cassandra and Leliana, eyes narrowing. “I believe I need to be informed of such things _before_ they become an issue so that I may deal with them appropriately.”

“I thought we had been briefed on the Herald’s background already?” Cullen asked, frowning at Cassandra.

It was like she wasn’t even there. 

Cassandra took a deep breath and began to narrate the events in the valley. Heated conversation erupted around the room, with much hand-flailing and frowning, along with accusations of ‘how could you _not_ tell us!’. Josephine had even abandoned her note-taking.

“For the last time, I’m _not_ a mage!” She yelled, quickly tiring of being talked about rather than to. The conversation around the table drew to an immediate halt and four pairs of eyes darted to her. 

“Forgive me, Herald, but I think someone else should be the judge of that.” Cullen stated, eyebrow raised. His hand, she noted, had not moved from his sword, but at least he hadn’t immediately beheaded her, right? "This is not a matter to take lightly."

“Apologies, Herald.” Cassandra told her, solemnly. “We will only inform those who need to know – until we have more information of course. We must investigate further.” She finished, emphatically.

“Enough of this for the time being – it would be simpler for us to approach the rebel mages, no?” Leliana said, quickly, getting the conversation back on track. “They could even lend us some of their expertise in this peculiar matter.”

“Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us.” Josephine said, calmly, before any further arguments could break out. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically.” She said, looking directly at Addie.

Her shoulders tightened with tension: “They still think I’m guilty then? Great.”

“That is not the entirety of it any longer.” Josephine explained, regretfully. “Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste’…” She paused for a moment as Addie let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed her forehead, ruefully. “This, of course, frightens the Chantry, especially as you are an elf. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harbouring you.”

“Ah… sorry about that then.” She muttered, guilt and anxiety pouring through her. “Can’t really help the elf part though.” 

“There is no need to apologise.” Said Leliana. Was she always so unflappable? “We stand with you, of course.” 

_Of course?_ She thought, incredulously. _There was nothing ‘of course’ about this._

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.” Growled Cassandra, hands tightened into fists.

“It limits our options.” Josephine continued. “Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.”

“Wait… they aren’t more concerned about the glowing hole in the sky? The real, very visible, threat?” She thought Roderick had been a one-off, that saner minds would prevail. 

Apparently not.

“They do know it’s a threat. They just don’t think _we_ can stop it.” Cullen explained, frown firmly back in place.

“The Chantry is telling everyone that you’ll make it worse.” Josephine said, also frowning now.

“Oh… yay.” Addie said weakly.

“There is something you can do.” Leliana said. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you.”

“Me?”

Leliana nodded. “She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“If you’re sure…” Addie said slowly, looking around the room. They were all staring at her, so expectantly. She straightened her back. “ _Oui bien sur_ , I could certainly see what she has to say.”

“Excellent.” Said Leliana, relieved. “You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

“You will need a team, of course.” Cullen followed on, a small smile on his lips. And now she felt like she was staring. Where did she normally look when people were talking? Panicked, she fixed her gaze on his ear. “We wouldn’t just send you out there without back-up. The Hinterlands have been a very troubled place of late.” 

“I would be pleased to accompany you, Herald.” Cassandra offered.

“Thank you, Cassandra.” She agreed with a smile, glad for not only the distraction, but for her unexpected support over the past few hours during the day.

“Varric, as well perhaps?” Suggested Leliana, ignoring Cassandra’s scowl. “And Solas?”

“If I must.” Despite her dislike of him, even she could see the use of having an expert magic-user with them.

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there,” Cullen advised.

“Such as…” Addie asked, feeling the tension build again. This was so much pressure, so much suddenly thrown on her shoulders.

“We need agents to extend out reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them,” Josephine explained.

“I’ll just use my charming wit then? Cassandra was a huge fan of that in the valley.” She said nudging Cassandra, who rolled her eyes. Ah humour. Such a good way to deflect.

Josephine laughed, a tinkling thing, refined and yet somehow warm. 

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Herald.” Cassandra insisted. Rather than be insulted, Addie was immediately reassured, again feeling the warm glow when Cassandra showed her support. They may not be friends, but she couldn’t help but be glad that Cassandra was there.

“I think we have almost finished with this initial meeting, though I do have one last point to check off.” Josephine was looking down at her paper, but then looked up to Addie, her molten-chocolate eyes soft and kind. “Is there anyone you would like to write to? I imagine friends, a lover maybe, might wish to know that you are alive and well?”

“I- uh… thank you, Ambassador, but no.” She could feel the tell-tale burn of embarrassment creeping across her face.

“Are you sure?” Josephine pressed, softly. “It is not a problem to have something sent for you.”

Her face burned further. “I-I can’t write. So, no. No letter.”

“Ah. I am sorry for pushing, Herald. Perhaps we should have anticipated this.” Josephine nodded to herself and made another note on her board. “Do you have an interest in learning? I imagine it would make things much easier in times to come. Though, of course, you may always dictate.”

“Were you not telling Varric how much you liked his books?” Leliana interrupted, frowning.

“How on Thedas do you know that?” Addie was flabbergasted. They had been nowhere near Leliana when they had talked about his books!

“You will soon learn, Herald, that nothing passes by in Haven without our Sister Nightingale getting wind of it.” Cullen smiled kindly at her. 

Between her extreme embarrassment at being seen as… lesser by these impressively accomplished people and the Commander’s kind eyes crinkling in the corners at her, she thought spontaneous combustion might be the best option.

“So?” Leliana prodded, impatient.

“By the… Yes, I like his books.” Addie said, embarrassed and exasperated by the turn in the conversation. “My friend was reading them _to_ me. She did voices and everything...” She trailed off, colour still suffusing her cheeks.

“Voices?” The sound Cassandra made rivalled that of wounded animals. “I’m glad the dwarf has had his ego boost for the day.”

Cullen was rubbing the back of his neck, also seemingly embarrassed, though she had no idea why.

“Varric was very kind to me.” Addie said firmly, almost defensive of Varric. “He said he was going to get me a signed copy.”

Cassandra merely rolled her eyes and snorted again.

“Regardless, Herald, if you have no objection, I thought I might set up a schedule for you.” Josephine, meanwhile, had been scribbling hastily on her parchment. “Just to balance out your various duties while you are still in Haven – Cassandra has volunteered to oversee your training. Perhaps Solas can be prevailed upon to look into this magical business?” 

She made another note, not noticing Addie’s lips curling in distaste. “You may join me, or perhaps Varric, in the afternoons to go over the basics of reading and writing, if that is your wish. And, of course, you have your cabin, and I will ensure extra clothes and supplies are sent over to you as soon as possible.”

She paused, looking up from her scribbling: “Does that sound agreeable?”

“Uh… Yes, thank you Ambassador.” Addie said, stunned. All of that for her? “I appreciate it.” 

“Please, you must call me Josephine, especially if we are to be working together closely.” She said, smiling and eyes twinkling.

Perhaps her first impression of the ambassador had been unduly harsh. She nodded and smiled back.

“You must call me Adelaide then. I’m not sure about this whole ‘Herald’-worshipping thing.” She admitted, relieved that she had the chance to bring it up.

Leliana, smirking, added: “Josephine, do ensure that the measurements are correct. We wouldn’t want a repeat performance of our Herald of Andraste shouting about her ‘virtues’ in the Chantry.”

She scowled at Leliana, suddenly self-conscious and slightly annoyed by her wilful disregard of her request. 

“Leliana!” Cassandra groused. “Must you?”

Josephine covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled lightly. “Oh my.”

Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck again, looking at his shoes. She watched his reaction, and suddenly felt a bit bolder.

“Got a bit of a fascination with my _virtues_ , have you, Leliana?” She purred, turning her gaze and looking through her eyelashes at the spymaster. “I must admit, when you said you were going to support me, I had no idea it was going to be so… intimate.” Her voice dipped lower.

“I am tied closer to you than any corset would be, Herald.” Leliana said, the solemn tone of her voice completely contradicted by the impish grin twisting the corner of her mouth.

Addie smiled, devilishly. “Well, that’s good because it’s not like I’m wearing any smal-…”

“Herald!” Cassandra interrupted, quickly. “That is hardly appropriate!”

“I believe this meeting is adjourned anyway, Cassandra.” Josephine said lightly, an amused smile still affixed to her features as she penned some last notes.

“If that is the case, you will have to excuse me. I have preparations to be getting along with.” Cullen nodded to them and quickly strode out of the room, his cloak flapping out behind him.

“By the Maker, if anyone should be worshipped…” Addie sighed, head tilted and gaze firmly affixed to Cullen’s backside as he made his way out of the Chantry. A gasp and a giggle alerted her to the fact that she had not been as quiet in her ogling as intended. She spun round, to face a pink Cassandra and a giggling Josephine. Leliana simply smirked.

“Oh, whatever. I’m sure the three of you have already had plenty of time to ogle.” She scoffed, a light blush tinging her features.

“Certainly not!” Cassandra spluttered. 

“You know,” Josephine said slyly, “Cullen carried you most of the way back from the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It was quite the sight.”

“I can’t believe I was unconscious for that! I bet being wrapped in those arms is certainly something.” She said wistfully, now grinning. Privately, she was incredibly glad that Josephine had joined in the teasing. She hadn’t meant to be so informal already, with these powerful women that she barely knew, but nerves and a wish to impress, as always, had loosened her tongue.

Cassandra tutted, still blushing slightly. “If you have time to stand and stare, you have time to train. Come with me. Now.”

“Herald, you’re free for the rest of the day, ahem, after Cassandra, but please meet with Josephine and I tomorrow to discuss specifics.” Leliana said, attempting to cover her amusement.

“Of course.” Addie nodded, watching Cassandra pull the door open impatiently. “One day on the job and I’m in trouble already…” She waggled her fingers to Josephine, still giggling, and Leliana, still smirking, and followed Cassandra out of the Chantry down towards the training grounds, bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun. 

As they left through the gate, she elbowed Cassandra in the side and nodded in the direction of Cullen, waggling her eyebrows madly. The exasperated sigh she received in reply was almost as good as the ones induced by Varric.

She could see why he needled her now. This was a lot of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Cullen *swoons*
> 
> (Past two chapters:) Even if you argued that Leliana isn’t prejudiced against elves (and to be fair, I don’t think she is prejudiced against an elven Inquisitor), it’s the smaller details that speak of institutional racism. Due to her half-elf status, I thought I could include a bit more of this that, in-game, can kind of be glossed over if you’re not properly looking for it. Thoughts?
> 
> (Translations: _Je suis Orlesian, Ambassadrice, je ne suis pas Dalish_ \- I am Orlesian, Ambassador, I am not Dalish.  
>  _Oui, bien sur_ \- Yes, of course)


	5. And they call me a pessimist

“We must discuss a training regime. You have some familiarity with a dagger, yes?”

“Two actually.” Addie said smarmily, “I mean, I’ve not had years of practice or anything but…”

“There was a lot of shrieking from where I was standing,” Cassandra interrupted, one eyebrow raised. 

“I’d never seen a demon before! What did you expect?” Addie protested fervently, a light blush staining her features. To be fair, there had been a lot of shrieking.

“What did your training consist of before this?” Cassandra asked, gesturing at the space around her.

“I’d been taught for about… a year, maybe? By a rogue who specialised with daggers too. Hadn’t had too much opportunity for anything like that when I was a servant.”

“Hmmm,” Cassandra looked at her thoughtfully. “I will fetch you a pair of wooden daggers and we will see what you can do.”

“Wait, Cassandra – do you expect me to fight in this? The laces are only staying together through sheer force of will!” She exclaimed, fingers pulling at the straining laces lightly – just in case – as if to convince Cassandra of her impending doom.

Cassandra sighed deeply. “For the love of…”

She dragged Addie along to some limp straw targets, handed her a compact dagger pulled from her long boots – Addie practically drooled at the motion – and pushed her lightly in the back: “Go. Practice. I will be back in a moment.”

Addie stared after her retreating back in surprise. That was abrupt.

After a moment, she shrugged to herself. Abrupt seemed to be Cassandra’s forte.

Addie weighed the dagger in her hand, taking note of how the balance tilted towards the handle. She quickly spun it around in her hand to hold it in a pinch grip, blade first, blunt edge inwards. She weighed it, considering, and then forcefully flicked it forward, hitting the straw target straight in the-

Arm. Well, fuck it. That was not what she had been aiming for. It had been like this in the valley as well.

Pieces of straw from the dummy’s head bristled in the growing wind, mocking her for her miss.

She frowned, annoyed, and walked to retrieve the dagger, easily pulling it out and dislodging several chunks of newly-cut straw. She was usually better than this. It must be her… unusual circumstances setting her off. 

Shrugging, she turned to try again, carefully weighing the dagger and flinging it forward. This time it at least hit the shoulder of the dummy. Closer, but not quite the dragonseye she was aiming for. 

“ _Tu te fous de moi_?” She muttered, disgruntled, as she retrieved the dagger. 

She trudged back to her patch in the snow, eyeing her glowing hand curiously. Was it this thing that was throwing her off balance? She took a mental checklist of her body, noting the various aches and pains – the past few days had not been kind to her – and her continued tiredness and her growing hunger, all making her movements just a bit more sluggish than they ought to be. Being involved with crazy Fade magic could really take it out of a girl. 

Her hand was still tingling and painful, though nothing near the agony of their journey to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. As she had thought earlier, the Breach being temporarily sealed must be linked to the diminished pain of the Mark in her hand. She eyed it curiously, the green fracture a stark contrast to the white of her snow-topped surroundings.

“Your stance is very steady – perhaps too steady?”

“Fu-Cassandra! You scared the shit out of me.” She squeaked, clutching her chest where her heart was thumping wildly. Cassandra said nothing, her dark, kohl-lined eyes boring into her, waiting for an answer.

She caught her breath and thought again for a moment on her technique: “Hmmm… I’m used to practising, fighting, on the sea. Not a lot of steadiness on the deck of a ship – maybe I’ve been overcompensating too much.” She explained, noting Cassandra’s darkening expression.

“I think I do not want to know what the means.” Cassandra cut her off, “But we know what we must work on. Fluidity is key for rogue types.”

“I know that.” Addie said, mildly offended, fidgeting with the hilt of the dagger at this quick assessment. She felt on edge and off-balance. She had always hated being watched when she performed tasks.

“Perhaps you should try to prove it to me.” Cassandra challenged, a small smile quirking her lips, her eyes glinting. She gave her the bundle in her arms and two wooden daggers.

Addie unfurled the bundle – it was a large tunic? “Uh, this might be too big, Cassandra?”

“Too big, too small. Can you stop complaining for but a moment?” Cassandra said, now clearly irritated. “You are like that damn dwarf. Here.”

She roughly ‘helped’ Addie pull it over her head. As it passed by her face, she was mildly surprised by the pleasant smell that it was emanating, like beeswax and… cloves maybe? She wondered where Cassandra had got it from; it was too large for her warrior’s frame.

“Your aim is good at least. But let us see how you fare in other respects – attack me.” Cassandra beckoned to her, settling into a defensive pose with a wooden sword but her own shield.

She looked down at herself, wearing an overlarge tunic, twisted around her arms, over her green dress that was flapping slightly in the breeze around her legs. This was not going to go well.

She approached cautiously, testing the Seeker. Nothing seemed to escape her gaze, every movement she made was assessed and reacted to – minutely, no wasted energy – by her opponent. She kept to the balls of her feet, slowly moving, getting a feel for Cassandra, who rather than looking impatient as she presumed she would, looked focused, eyes roving her form. Her daggers hung loosely by her side, her frame tensing. Quickly she darted forward, feinting to the left and striking forward to the right, but Cassandra was right there, blocking and thrusting her backwards with a crossed hit from her sword. She whirled around, trying to strike below, but again was hit back by Cassandra, the dull thud of wood on wood jarring her arm. She flipped backwards, the movement only slightly impeded by the series of flapping materials about her body, and whipped around to flank her, only for her shoulder to be smacked full on by the full metal face of Cassandra’s shield. She practically flew backwards, landing with an “oof!” on her backside.

In her head, she heard the echoes of melodic, mocking laughter, from training sessions gone by. Dazed, she shook her head and flipped back on to her feet, her shoulder, and butt, throbbing outrageously. She tried again, and again, but was blocked at every turn, barely getting close enough to even think she might hit her. This woman’s defences were legendary.

Even when she slipped into stealth to try and get a sly hit in, Cassandra seemed to sense where she was immediately – that damn dress swishing around her legs – and send her sprawling to the ground with a hit from her shield. She probably thought she was doing it gently, but Addie felt like she’d been hit by a druffalo every time.

Shakily and panting for breath, she stood up – she wasn’t being dramatic, but that last hit may well have pulverised all the bones in her body – and Cassandra _finally_ called a halt.

“Your stamina is certainly not what it should be.” Cassandra noted, displeased.

“I’ve just woken up after three days, not to mention nearly dying. Might take me a little bit longer to get back on my feet.” Addie protested, wiping the sweat roughly away from her forehead with the sleeve of her blouse.

“I am hearing a lot of excuses, Herald.” Cassandra said, ignoring Addie’s growing scowl.

She decided to change tacks, seeing as how sulking was getting her nowhere, and smiled at her gainfully. “I bow to your superior wisdom, Seeker. Teach me all you know.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, not fooled for a moment. “You will meet me every morning – dawn – to practice. You have some talent, it is true, but we cannot have the Herald of Andraste defenceless. And you will be ready to train. No more of this attitude, yes?”

“But Cassandra, I thought you were finally starting to enjoy my winning personality and dazzling wit,” She grinned hopefully, wiping the descending sweat from her jawline now, and deciding to ignore the ‘defenceless’ comment. Cassandra merely scoffed and walked away from the training grounds.

“Seriously though, did you really mean ‘dawn’?” Addie called after her and was, unsurprisingly, ignored.

“ _Merde_.” She sighed, lightly rubbing her shoulder again, still throbbing from that first hit, then rotating it gently as she watched Cassandra’s retreating back. “I really need a fucking drink.”

Following the light footsteps that Cassandra had made in the fresh dusting of snow, Addie made her way back into the village proper, slowly and carefully observing her surroundings, noting that it was becoming much more familiar to her already. She stepped into the cabin and groaned quietly, the scent of delicious, warm stew wafting its way to her as she walked through the door. She greeted Liri, who was busying herself adjusting a small pile of towels, and practically ran to the chair next to the fireplace, where there sat a steaming bowl of stew on a tray.

When was the last time she ate? She assumed that Solas and the healers had been feeding her while she was unconscious, but other than that, she couldn’t remember. Her stomach gurgled audibly, and she suddenly felt nauseous with hunger, quickly picking up the bowl and plopping her butt on the chair.

“You are _magnifique_ , Liri.” She practically moaned, bringing a spoonful up to her mouth and breathing the rich aroma in, deeply. The fireplace warmed her cold toes and she curled up in the chair contentedly, as she slowly savoured the first bite. The flavour of the meat and herbs exploded on her tongue. It was probably the hunger talking, but this might be the best meal she’d ever had.

“You’re welcome, my Lady Herald.” Came the quiet reply. Addie frowned – she thought she had been making some progress with befriending Liri – and leaned forward to look at her.

Liri seemed to be even quieter than before, standing so still that she might not even have been there. It was almost like she was trying to disappear into the wall, her face oddly blank. Addie knew that look, had seen it, had _worn_ it before.

“Liri?” She practically jumped at the sound of her name, and Addie’s concern skyrocketed. “Is everything ok?”

“I-” She paused, before shaking her head, eyes downcast. “Everything is fine, my lady, thank you for asking.”

“What is it, Liri?” She asked softly, eyes taking in the submissive posture and the hands, buried in the folds of her dress. Even her back was to the wall. Something had clearly happened to her, unsettled her so much that she couldn’t even make eye contact.

“I apologise, my lady. I am feeling a little under the weather.”

Addie watched her closely while she chewed her mouthful of food slowly, concern dampening the hunger pangs she had felt mere minutes before.

“Do you want to have some dinner with me? There’s plenty in the bowl…” She trailed off at Liri’s vigorous head-shaking and almost inaudible protests of it ‘not being appropriate’.

“Your bath is behind the screen. Do you mind if I retire for the night?” Liri asked after a few moments, her voice so quiet, she could barely hear her. She sighed internally but smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. It didn’t matter – Liri barely glanced up when she replied.

“No, of course not. But… Liri, if there’s anything I can to do to help you… you’ll ask, right?” Addie asked desperately. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She was finally in a position to _do_ something, to help someone, just like she’d always wanted and yet could do nothing. She could hardly force Liri to tell her.

She watched sadly as Liri nodded and then made her escape into the quickly darkening evening and wondered what had changed in the few hours since she had seen her last. She resolutely made up her mind to ask her again tomorrow, as she finished up the last dregs of her stew. Addie didn’t want to push her into a confidence Liri wasn’t comfortable with… but she also refused to do nothing while someone suffered. It wasn’t in her to watch as a fellow servant, especially a fellow elf, struggled.

Frowning deeply as she continued to worry, she stripped off her several layers of clothing, struggling impatiently with the tightly-bound laces, and laying them gently across the back of the chair. She hoped the people that they had belonged to didn’t mind her borrowing them too much. She fingered the material of the linen tunic speculatively, then picked up the warm towel from next to the gently smouldering fireplace.

She rounded the corner of the screen and groaned appreciatively. Steam rose gently from the low, wooden bath and the layered fabric covering the edges looked soft and deliriously comfortable. Liri had even put some lavender in there for her. Was that some kind of oil too? The water had a deliciously hazy quality to it. Addie inhaled speculatively. 

_Is that Dawn Lotus?_ Damn, she was going to sleep well.

She lowered herself into the steaming water slowly, hissing slightly as the water made contact with her various cuts and bruises. She stared over her naked body, watching as the colours, ranging from purple and blue to golden brown, started to ripple together as she submerged herself. Detaching herself from the slight shock of seeing her skin covered in the marks of so much violence – was that handprint on her arm from Solas grabbing her? What a dick – she lost herself in the sensation of the hot water soothing the aches and pains from her body, groaning softly.

She had the presence of mind to dunk her hair in the deliciously warm water and vigorously rub her hair clean with the soap left by the bath, before leaning back against the rim…

A loud knock sounded on the door and Addie snorted awake suddenly, sloshing waves of water over the rim of the bath.

“Whu…” She managed blearily, glancing around. The water was now lukewarm and her fingers had pruned nicely; she must have been asleep for at least twenty minutes.

Well, at least she didn’t drown from her impromptu nap.

“Herald.” Came a disembodied voice from the other side of the screen. “We were supposed to-

“Solas?!” She screeched, interrupting and frantically covering herself with her hands, spilling even more water. “I’m in the bath!”

“So I hear.” Came the calm reply. “The Ambassador made it clear that I was to speak with you this evening. I will wait for you to finish.”

“Outside!” She shrieked, one arm attempting to cover her breasts, the other scrambling at the side of the bath for a towel.

“As you wish.” She heard the door close and she sighed with relief. She quickly scrubbed and rinsed herself with the rapidly cooling water, making faces as her hands passed over the abrasions on her body, and hopped out of the bath, grabbing several of the small towels from the pile that Liri had been straightening and rubbing herself down vigorously. Deeming herself more damp than wet a few moments later, she glanced around the room, looking for anything that could be used as clothing that wouldn’t also take a team of people to lace herself back into.

It wasn’t looking good.

She rummaged through the small dresser next to the door, supremely self-conscious of the lack of a lock on the door all the while. She sighed with frustration as she carded her hands through the admittedly lovely-looking, folded dresses, before coming across a thick robe, right at the bottom. She pulled it on quickly, wet hair swinging across her back, before coming to the sinking realisation that there was no tie on it to keep the damn thing closed.

Naked with just a robe to cover her, in front of a man with whom she had had such a turbulent – as in slapped the shit out of – first meeting and, if she was really honest with herself, scared her, was definitely not what she wanted. Casting about quickly for a second option, she caught a glimpse of the shirt Cassandra had given her earlier. It hadn’t suffered too badly from their ‘battle’ and she quickly flapped it out in front of her to inspect it for holes or obvious dirt, and put it on.

Whoever owned this shirt had pretty broad shoulders but, unlike the dress, it at least gave her breasts some decent coverage and it fell to just about her knee. She shrugged the robe back on; she was instantly enveloped in a heavy warmth. The smell of the tunic and the heaviness of the fabric soothed her and she relaxed minutely. Her toes poked out the bottom, and she wiggled them, satisfied that this was as ‘decent’ as she was going to get. 

She squeezed her hair out with one of the towels, pulled the robe about herself and steeled herself.

“Sorry about the wait.” She said, aiming for breezy as she opened the door, cold air rushing in. “I was trying to find something suitable.”

Solas stepped through the threshold, like he’d been invited: “And this is suitable?” He asked, nodding to her robe and wet hair, still dripping slowly, as he seated himself comfortably by the fireplace.

She scowled, annoyed at how at ease he seemed. “Apparently the Inquisition don’t stock clothes that come in half-elf sizes or you need a team of servants to lace you into it.” She stopped abruptly, realising how utterly spoiled she sounded.

He said nothing to this and only raised a fine eyebrow. Despite herself, she felt the tell-tale heat of a blush working its way across her face. 

“Anyway. What can I do for you, Solas?” She asked, quickly changing the subject – and so subtly too – before she lost face entirely. She delicately sat on the brocaded coverlet of the bed, feeling entirely out of place as the ends of the quilted robe tickled her feet.

“I hope you are feeling better.” He said, ignoring her question. “The clean look is definitely an improvement for you.”

“You seem to be in the habit of saving me.” Addie replied, swallowing down her irritation. At his questioning look, she continued; “Liri told me you looked after me over the past few days, as well as saving me with the Mark and in… in the valley. So, thank you.”

He tilted his head towards her in acknowledgement; “Consider it a minor repayment for your saving the world, Herald. But, to get to the point, the Ambassador asked me to talk with you concerning your new abilities.”

Fear exploded across her body like swooping butterflies. Even the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. She said nothing, jaw clenched and watching him closely, as he did the same.

“I theorise that when you were in the Fade – before you were pushed out of a rift by a woman – ” He clarified for her at her burgeoning look of terror, “as you had been dragged through by some kind of traumatic magic, your mind was forcibly connected with the Fade, opening pathways to magic that you didn’t have before. Think of it like a reverse Rite of Tranquillity.” His face, unimpassioned during this explanation, twitched slightly when he mentioned the rite.

She buried her face in her hands, panic welling up inside her. “I was in the Fade?”

He nodded. “It would appear so. One of very few to physically enter it.”

“I remember… I remember green light. And there were these… skittering _things_ chasing me.” She shuddered. “And then a woman… Yes, there was a woman. I remember her.”

She paused, looking at him. “And this… this made me get magic?”

“You don’t ‘get’ magic, like some disease.” Solas frowned at her. “It is a gift. A gift that can develop within y…”

“How could something like this happen?” She interrupted, rising from the bed, pacing the room, the simmering anger within her turning into a frothing sea of resentment and rage. “Why the _fuck_ did this happen! I didn’t ask for this, I don’t want it! I don’t want to ‘develop’ it.” She turned angrily to him. “It _is_ like a disease! I don’t want to be locked away, made to do stuff I don’t want to do. _I don’t want this_!”

“Herald, calm down.” He said, sternly, rising to meet her and grabbing her hands tightly. “You need to reign in your emotions, or you will endanger everyone around you and yourself.” He nodded to the table next to them.

“What…?” She trailed off, her ranting stalled by astonishment. The set of candles next to her had entirely melted into a puddle of wax that was slowly dripping from the table onto the floor. Even the room seemed to have noticeably warmed, the heat from the fire becoming uncomfortably hot.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathed, tears beginning to gather in her eyes as she observed the mess. “That was me?”

“Being a mage, being able to touch parts of the world that others cannot… it is no terrible thing. It is far from it. It is wondrous.” He said earnestly, staring intently into her glistening eyes. At a gesture from him, the temperature of the room began to cool, as did the sweat that had sprung up on her forehead. She pulled out of Solas’ hands, perturbed, and wiped her forearm across her face. She sat back down on the bed, the heavy weight of realisation mixed with fear lying across her shoulders. “But, the first step for you will be acceptance.”

“Fine! Fine…” She said, hands clutching the coverlet beneath her until they turned white. “I will admit that things feel… that they are, different now. I’m… I’m different now.”

“Yes.” He said gravely, pulling the chair up to sit beside her, “and I am willing to help you. However, what I am concerned for now is your safety.”

“Do you mean… Templars?” She asked, hushed, her stomach dropping as she thought about Cullen’s kind eyes and then the Templar-engraved vambrace on his hand, wrapped around a sword.

“No, not Templars.” She noted a slight curl about his lips as he spoke. “No, I speak of a greater power. You must begin to protect your mind from demons, both in battle and when you sleep. I do not wish to scare you, but they will be drawn to you now.”

She took a deep breath, trying not to look as terrified as she felt.

“I drew certain wards about this house,” he continued, “when we brought you here after the sealing of the Breach, as you certainly were in no condition to protect yourself. So, do not worry while you are here; you are protected. This, and because you were unconscious, may also be why you have not found yourself in the Fade.”

“The Fade…?” She asked, nonplussed. Why would she find herself there again?

“Mages find themselves in the Fade when they dream. Conversely this is why dwarves do not dream – their race have no connection to the Fade at all. You did not know this?”

“The only things that I know about mages are from a few Chantry sermons and what Is… what I heard about through stories. I’m never sure what to believe.” She blushed, feeling anew the scope of her ignorance. “I… you are the first mage I’ve had an actual conversation with.”

He looked surprised. “I had no idea you had led such a sheltered life.”

“There’s no need to be rude.” She bristled, feeling tears prick at her eyes again. She turned her head slightly to look at the fire instead of Solas. “I was just trying to explain… well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Josephine said I’m to have lessons with you as well? To learn how to keep the demons away?”

“Yes, among other lessons. Magic can be used to do a great many things.” Solas paused for a second. “I apologise, Herald. It was not my intention to offend you.”

She smiled wanly at him. “And yet.” She stood and moved to the door. “Tomorrow then?”

“Yes, I believe Cassandra is scheduled to train you first, but please come and find me afterwards. If you can walk.” His small attempt at a joke fell flat and, with a sigh, he stood up and followed her to the door. “Sleep well, Herald.”

“Goodnight, Solas.” She closed the door as soon as she could politely do so.

Addie crossed the room to the bed, picking up a comb from the dresser. She pulled it through her hair only to stop short, when she reached a series of tangles immediately. She realised, belatedly, that her hair had dried during her tantrum. Of course. Those knots were going to take a long time to get out.

Uneasily, she put the comb on the end table, carefully avoiding the still drying wax. 

The first tear appeared slowly, but it was soon followed by another, then another, until a waterfall of emotion began to pour from her. Overwrought, scared and fragile, she pulled the robe tighter against herself, holding herself against the onslaught. 

What was she going to do? She was in no way prepared for any of this responsibility. She was just a lost girl, but now she was a lost girl with a scar and the ability to melt candles when she lost her temper. She felt like she didn’t know herself anymore, like her body was a stranger to her. Who was this person who could burn demons, close holes in the sky and live to tell about it? And even if there was someone she could write to about it, she wouldn’t be able to – she was uneducated, unworthy, _sheltered_ …

The tears fell faster, harder, as anxious thoughts filled her about the way people had looked at her, had spoken about her earlier in the day, so expectant and wondering. She was so out of her depth, so scared of what they thought about her, what they were asking her to do.

Then, a new image appeared in her mind: Liri’s face, drawn and frightened. As she thought about Liri, the bubbling anger returned. This was something she could do, something she could help with, if she set her mind to it. All of these important people were treating her like she was important… well, she could use that; use it to protect people. She rubbed her drying red eyes determinedly. She may be a lost girl, but maybe now she had some purpose. She folded the robe over the edge of the bed and slid under the rich covers of the bed. 

It was ludicrously comfortable, and she wriggled around, experiencing that same out of place feeling as before. She tried to put the thought out of her mind and, of course, magic came rushing back to the forefront of her mind.

Nervously, she tossed and turned as she settled. What if the wards didn’t work? What if Solas was not as talented as he thought he was and she murdered everyone as a towering rage demon? Her imagination, inspired by the past few days, quickly rushed to fill in the gaps, conjuring fiery images of death and destruction, and she curled in on herself, wrapping the blanket tightly across her body. Despite demon-fuelled anxiety coursing through her veins, her exhaustion rapidly caught up with her and she dropped off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you may see, there wasn’t an update in September. But it’s because I got a new job! I’m super excited about it, but I’m also super swamped, so this fic has had to go on the back burner for a few weeks.  
> Thanks for all the kudos (and a few comments 😊 ), and I’ll hopefully be back on schedule during/after Oct when everything has calmed down a bit.  
> I’m imagining that they have similar plants on Thedas, with the additions of the herbs in game. I mean, they have parsnips etc… (thanks to Cole for the example). I also won’t have too many moments of super anxiety from Addie (I’d rather this fic was upbeat!), but I think it would be really weird if she just accepted all this as the new norm.
> 
> (Translations: _Tu te fous de moi_ \- Are you kidding me?  
>  _Merde_ \- shit  
>  _magnifique_ \- magnificent  
> AND, slight mistake in the last chapter – it should be _mon petit chou-chou_. That’s going to bother me…)


	6. Look Who's Back From the Dead. Again.

Abrupt banging on the door ripped her from her deep, dreamless sleep. Groggily, Addie stretched, instantly wincing and regretting her life choices when every single muscle in her body seized and burned mercilessly.

“Argh, why?” She moaned, curling back up into herself. Another loud knock came. Scrunching up her eyes and burrowing herself further into the rapidly leeching heat of her bedcovers, she shouted towards the door: “ _Casse-toi!_ ”

“Herald, it is time to train” Came a muffled, but distinctly familiar, voice through the door. She poked her head above the brocaded cover. The curtains had been drawn against the windows but, even then, she could tell that very little in the way of light was trying to break its way through.

 _Was Cassandra serious about_ dawn _?_

A knock came again, louder and more insistent this time. 

Apparently, she was serious.

Grumbling, and then cursing when her foot collided with the stool by her bedside, Addie dragged herself over to the door with the pace of the walking dead. She cracked the door a fraction to see the impatient visage of the Seeker appear.

“No.”

“Yes, Herald. Get dressed.” Cassandra pushed her way into the house as Addie tried to shut the door in her face, and started ushering the scowling Herald towards the wardrobe.

“Again, there’s nothing to wear.” She groused, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “I’m wearing this tunic that you gave me to sleep in.”

“For the love of…” Cassandra sighed, armoured hand – _already? Did she sleep with it on? Does it even come off?_ – pinching the bridge of her nose, exasperated. “Look, there is a pile of clothing, there.”

Addie looked around non-plussed. Apparently Liri had been in while she had been asleep and left her some clothing and even a bowl of porridge, still lightly steaming. Impressive, or perhaps just indicative of how deeply asleep she had been. Either way, she was even more glad that Liri was around. She headed towards it, stomach gurgling eagerly.

“I wouldn’t recommend eating that just yet.” Cassandra said, a slight smirk touching her lips. “I want to work on your stamina first. We will be running. You do not want to do that on a full stomach.”

She turned to Cassandra, bleary eyes widening and mouth agog. “You want to run _now_?”

“I will give you a short moment to change and then I expect to see you outside.” She said sternly, pointing at her and then indicating the door. Just in case she was unaware where ‘outside’ was. Her hands found her hair as the Seeker headed towards the door; it seemed to be defying all natural laws. Addie patted it down, only slightly self-conscious to be seen like that by Cassandra.

Unfolding the pile of clothing, she found a pair of leggings and a shorter tunic, as well as, thank the Maker above, some smallclothes. Shivering in the cool air, she rapidly changed. The leggings fit her like a second skin – so much more suitable for hand-to-hand combat, rather than several layers of swishy fabric. The soft boots under the stool were not ideal – they would probably get a bit wet with the snow and were a little on the small side – but they were better than barefoot. 

She swiftly picked up the porridge bowl and shovelled a few loaded spoonfuls into her mouth – Maker bless, Liri – to appease her grumbling stomach, watching the cabin door like a hawk the entire time, in case Cassandra could somehow sniff out her disobedience and came bursting through it.

“Herald!” Came the impatient call from outside. Jumping, she all but threw the half-empty bowl back onto the bedside table and rushed outside. Cassandra was not a woman to be kept waiting. 

Quickly leading her through some warm-up stretches – which admittedly felt pretty good on her sore body – Cassandra set a slow pace out of the village proper, passing through the gates and down alongside the camp, where only a few soldiers were milling around. One or two looked up through the dim light with interest at the jogging couple; Addie kept her eyes on her feet, avoiding eye contact. She remembered with awful clarity her first journey through this campsite; she wondered if everyone else compared the two as well.

The pounding rhythm of their feet lulled her into a sense of peace as she cast her mind from the memories. The chill morning breeze ruffled her hair, brushing past her mildly heated cheeks, and she took a deep breath, enjoying the freshness of the mountain air.

“It’s not too bad, this running shit.” Addie commented, her legs stretching out beneath her as she kept pace with the Seeker, feeling energy fill her limbs for the first time in what felt like days. Her companion nodded briefly, shooting her a quick pleased glance, seemingly glad of the sudden lack of complaining.

Cassandra’s stride lengthened, and Addie matched her pace as they continued down the snow-dusted path leading them into the wooded area outside the walls. Her breath started to hitch as they brushed past the first of the frosted firs, the fire-lights from the village weakly lighting the way in the semi-darkness of the dawn. 

As they moved through the trees, her initial enjoyment started to pall with the tightening of her lungs, the cool breeze chilling the sweat that had begun to appear down her back.

“How are you running… with all that… shit on?” Addie puffed, glancing at the Seeker’s even gait in disbelief.

“I train every day. My job, my purpose, requires me to be as fit as possible,” Cassandra replied, barely sounding winded, brushing imaginary imperfections from her breastplate as she jogged. “If I want my training to impact in a meaningful way, then I need to do it in the same conditions as I would on the battlefield.”

“Not that you… would be… the one running away…” Addie joked, attempting to grin at her erstwhile trainer.

Cassandra merely smirked. 

She increased the speed as they passed by the small wooden complex, Addie pushing herself to keep up with the smooth stride of the Seeker through the gate. Her breaths coming quicker and shallower now, Addie at least took a moment to reflect on how beautiful the sunrise looked, the early glimmers of the sun glinting off the surface of the frozen lake… until a searing pain flared to life in her side, as her fitness level took protest in the form of a blazing stitch.

“Son of a…” She groaned, clutching her side and starting to fall behind Cassandra, as they twisted between trees, feet struggling to find purchase through the powdery snow of the woods as they left the path. As she had suspected, her footwear had soaked up a good amount of the snow, increasing her struggle up through the undergrowth of the woods.

Her breathing turned even more harsh and her stomach started to contract painfully as they ran around the snowy glade, giving the druffalo, who were sleepily munching on what vegetation they could find under the snow, a wide berth.

“Can we… take… a break?” She asked, gasping.

“Just a little more, Herald.” Cassandra said, encouragingly, as they continued through the snowy glade. “We will go back to the village soon.”

They pounded over the wooden slats by the lake, heading back towards the gate, when Addie, head spinning, fell against a tree, down to her knees, coughing and heaving up the porridge – and possibly her stomach lining if the amount of fire raging through her body was any indication – gasping for breath, sweat lining her forehead as it thunked against the bark.

“Are you well?” Cassandra asked, her breathing at least slightly laboured, Addie noted with a hint of satisfaction. And was that concern in her voice?

“Blargh.” She panted, articulately, leaning heavily on the tree and spitting onto the snow. Her entire face was covered in sweat, tears and other less-identifiable liquids, and she shuddered, sticky and cold.

“I did tell you not to eat anything.” Cassandra said, glancing at the puddle of oats and slush by Addie’s knees. 

Maybe less concern then, and a hint more judgement. 

Addie whined as she shivered, scrunching her face up and roughly wiping across her mouth with her forearm. Cassandra sighed and handed her a water skin. 

She looked up with a pained smile, remembering the last time they were in this situation, as she took a swig of the proffered water: “This is becoming a really grim habit.”

“Herald, we really need to work on your stamina, it is so important for you to…” Cassandra started to lecture, looking down at her disapprovingly and taking the water back off her.

“Maker, it’s in my hair.” She groaned, tuning Cassandra out as she inspected her locks. She grabbed some clean snow and wiped it across her face – the freezing cold was worth getting the clammy funk of her barf off of her.

A low bell sounded in the distance, interrupting Cassandra’s lecture. “Well, that is probably enough for now.”

“I can go?” Gods, yes. If there was ever a time to hide in the cabin…

Cassandra huffed a laugh. “No, now it is time to weapons train – we will need to stop by the camp to pick up some daggers.”

“You’re joking.” She said flatly, pulling herself up on shaking legs to stand. A single raised eyebrow was enough answer to that.

Somehow Cassandra coaxed her and her rebelling limbs into following her in a slow jog – to cool her muscles, apparently, but Addie was fairly convinced that this was an extended form of torture – back to the now-awake camp. She flushed head to toe as they passed by a familiar ruffed, auburn cloak. Thankfully the Commander was frowning down at some poor recruit who was trying to hand him a sheath of papers and didn’t notice her slink past. 

The only positive that could be said about the practice session with Cassandra was that it wasn’t going much worse than the one yesterday. But it definitely wasn’t better.

She rubbed her bruised behind mournfully as Cassandra began to circle once again.

“Come on, Herald. Again.” She swung upwards and Addie dodged, darting to the side, trying to get in her blind spot to strike. 

Apparently though, Cassandra didn’t have a blind spot. 

She really should have learned that from yesterday.

The hit from her shield sent shockwaves of pain reverberating up into her body and she flew to the ground expelling what felt like every bit of air in her lungs. She lay there for a moment, stunned.

“Get up, Adelaide. Your enemies will not go easier on you because you are tired.” 

With a groan, she pulled herself to her feet. She was pretty sure the structural integrity of her arms now resembled hay, and her ass was on fire. Surely this would be over soon. Did Cassandra never get tired?

Cassandra led her into another series of manoeuvres, showing her ways to get around opponent’s defences by, painful, example. Her arms began to tremble from over-exertion. Her legs felt like they were made out of lead. She tried to keep up with Cassandra’s smooth movements, but could feel herself lagging behind as her limbs became heavier and slower.

Cassandra spun suddenly, turning into an overhand swing. Addie rushed to meet it with her daggers interlocking to hold the sword, only a fraction too late. The power of the blow forced the daggers out of her hands, and she cried out and then again when, as a result, Cassandra’s sword slipped forward to smack into her shoulder, forcing her down to her knees. Thank the Maker they were still using wooden weapons.

“You cannot just drop your weapons, Herald!” Cassandra scolded, bringing her sword away quickly. Addie stared at the snow-strewn ground, her breath steaming out in front of her as she panted and gasped, pain radiating from her arm and circulating throughout her body. Did she feel more or less shitty when she was fighting at the Breach? She couldn’t be sure anymore.

“You know, Seeker, not everyone is made out of steel like you. Let the poor kid have a break.” Came a voice from above her. She felt a hand on her other shoulder, a supportive squeeze. She looked up and smiled wanly at Varric.

“This is none of your business, Varric.” Cassandra snapped.

“She nearly died a few days ago, Seeker! She needs time to recover.” Varric said, folding his arms and stepping closer to her.

“Do not tell me, dwarf, I know more than most how close we were to losing everything.” 

“You’re being stubborn as a mule – driving her into the ground now is not going to save her later.” He said firmly, as Addie painfully climbed to her feet.

Addie looked between the two, her laboured breathing slowing as her watery gaze flicked between the two of them. Maybe she could just… Cassandra’s gaze snapped towards her at the sound of her edging away from the two of them, and she frowned.

“Fine. We are done for now, Herald.” She rubbed her forehead and made to stride past them both. She paused when she reached Addie, who was subtly trying to wipe away a few errant tears with her Marked hand. “I am… sorry for being so hard on you this morning, Adelaide. I was… carried away. I- I worry.”

“It’s ok, Cassandra.” She said shakily, trying to send a small smile her way. She wasn’t sure how successful she was. Cassandra nodded, doubt shining in her eyes and quickly left their makeshift arena.

Varric puffed out his cheeks, exhaling hard, and then appraised her with a low chuckle. “I don’t mean this as harshly as it’s going to sound, Sunflower, but… go get cleaned up. You look like shit.”

“I thought that was never going to end. I think I love you even more now, Varric.” Addie sighed emphatically, her burning limbs making her practically ache for warm water. “Thank you.”

“Save the adoration for the next book release, kiddo. Oh, and make sure you actually turn up for a drink at some point too, mm?”

Her eyes widened and she blushed, remembering suddenly about his invitation the day before: “ _Merde_ , sorry Varric! I fell asleep in the bath and then went right to the bed after Solas woke me up…”

“Solas, eh?” Varric smirked, waggling his thick eyebrows. “Say no more, Sunflower. Thought I could see the sparks flying off you two.”

“What, no!” Despite herself, Addie felt herself blush even harder. She pressed a hand to her fiery cheeks in embarrassment and then squeaked in shock, as pain ricocheted through her hand. Varric stopped his chuckling abruptly and peered carefully at her hand, eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“Well, shit, Sunflower, that looks pretty bad. The Seeker’s got a mean hit on her. Looks dislocated, I think, hopefully not broken. Let’s get you to the apothecary.” 

She nodded woozily, suddenly nauseated from the sight of yet another disfigured hand, and followed Varric in step back into Haven, leaning on his arm when they encountered the partially frozen steps.

“In here, Sunflower,” Varric said, pushing the door open and guiding her in. She was instantly enveloped in warmth and those smells… She sniffed, puzzling out the earthy herbal smells of the apothecary’s house, and instantly feeling calmer.

“Can’t I get any peace?” When Varric tried to explain the situation to the irritable robed man, he interrupted: “I make potions, I’m not a nursemaid for children’s bumps and bruises!”

“Adan, this is the Herald of Andraste. Herald, you’ve met Adan before – you were just unconscious then.” Varric said, placatingly as Adan turned to look at the would-be patient. Addie nodded vacantly: unconscious sounded pretty good right now.

“Fine.” Adan said shortly. “I suppose I didn’t labour over your body with the elf, only to let you die of some trifling training wound, Herald.” He moved over to her, looked her up and down, and then stuck out his hands. “Here. Hand.”

She gingerly placed her right hand in his and studied his stern and tired profile with a pang of sympathy. She wasn’t the only one around here who was running on steam. “Uh, thank you for watching over me for the past few days. I really appreci- ow!”

“Can you move it?”

“No,” She said through gritted teeth, unshed tears of pain burning in her eyes, as he continued to lightly prod around the rapidly purpling bit of her right hand. 

Varric peered over at the pair of them from his seat by the alchemy table. “Your bedside manner could really use some work there, Adan.”

“I am no Chantry Mother giving out paltry comforts.” Adan stated, squinting at the dwarf. 

“Clearly.” Addie muttered when he turned his back to tinker with the bits and pieces on his tables.

“Just a suggestion,” Varric shrugged.

“Hmph. It’s a dislocation. A reduction and then a splint. Maybe you can get that elf to sort out the swelling.” Adan guided her to the other chair in the room, where he had placed his materials. “If not, get some snow on it. Not too much though. Don’t want to have to deal with frostbite too.”

His words washed over her as she took the weight off her aching feet and abused muscles. The chair was right next to the fire, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the heat washed over her. She shifted, getting comfortable, as Adan picked up her hand to inspect again.

“By ‘that elf’, do you mean Solas?” Addie asked. Why would she need him?

“Yes. Are you ready?” Adan asked, glancing up from her hand to her face.

“For wh- motherfucker! _Bordel de merde!_ ”

“There we go, Sunflower. Nice and easy.” Varric soothed, coming over and patting her arm.

Panting and eyes swimming with tears, _again_ , she glared at the apothecary. “You could have warned me.”

Adan merely shrugged as he bandaged her fingers tightly together. “I didn’t think it warranted a warning – you would have tensed, and it would have either hurt worse or not taken properly, and then I would have had to do it again. I have a lot of work to do so, if we are done here?” 

He turned away, grumbling about gratitude and elfroot. Addie moved her bound fingers cautiously. The sharp throbbing pain had reduced to a mild sting, though the area around it was still swollen and bruised. She exhaled and wiped her Marked hand across her forehead, dampening her sleeve with the sweat that had beaded at her hairline.

“Adan?”

“What?” He asked flatly, focused on the ingredients on his table.

“Thank you for aiding me again. If you need help, I’m more than happy to assist.”

He grunted, and then tilted his head back towards her. “Come back tomorrow. I think you need a bit of a rest first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one really ran away with itself, so I split it into two – I guess it became a bit more filler-y than intended with the change. I’ve got the next three chapters essentially written though! Updates will become much more frequent for the immediate future. 
> 
> Reviews make me smile <3
> 
> (Translation: _Casse-toi_ – piss off/screw you (lit. ‘break yourself’) (Also seen in Hamilton <3)  
>  _Bordel de merde_ \- Oh fuck/Fucking hell (esp. vulgar exclamation) )


	7. The Chosen of Andraste, A Blessed Hero Sent to Save Us All

The lesson with Solas went about as well as she expected it to when she limped through the door as the midday bell was sounding. She had quickly – though this was a relative term in her woebegone state – dropped by the cabin to run a damp flannel over herself. Liri had clearly been in there in the meantime; the bed was remade, the porridge had been cleared away and there was fresh water on the side. Mourning the loss of the rest of her breakfast, she wondered where she had gone – what did Liri do when she wasn’t looking after Addie? Where did she sleep? She had ignored her grumbling stomach and headed back over to Solas’ cabin.

“Herald.” Solas greeted, sounding somewhat surprised at the sound of her entrance. “I had expected you earlier.”

“Let’s just say you had the right of it last night.” Addie said sourly. Noting his confused look, she explained simply: “Cassandra.”

“Ah. Well, there won’t be much physical exertion with me at least, Herald.” Despite her general surliness, a small smirk twitched her lips at his phrasing. “Today we are going to look within ourselves and access our magic.”

He looked moderately entertained by her bemused expression, furthering souring her mood. He reached around her to close the door, and carefully guided her further into his room. It was at least nice and warm, she noted, even if every available surface was covered in books, scattered papers, and other odds and ends.

“If you wouldn’t mind sitting there.” He indicated the only spare bit of rug that was not covered in bits of parchment or books. Addie dragged herself over and, with a groan not unlike a sinking ship, folded herself onto the rug. Solas watched the proceedings with a raised eyebrow.

“If Leliana had not made it clear that in no uncertain terms would we be doing this as soon as possible, I might advise leaving this to a later date when you are not so… tired.” 

“Cassandra woke me up before dawn, ran me around Haven until I threw up, and then battered me until I was black and blue with a dislocated finger to really put _la cerise sur le gâteau_. Now both hands are pretty much fucked. Forgive me if I’m not in the right frame of mind to learn.” She finished sarcastically, wiggling her bruised and glimmering hands at Solas, flinching when streaks of pain jolted through her hands. 

The satisfaction of sarcasm was definitely not worth it, she noted to herself.

“I have some knowledge of healing. If you would allow me?” Solas asked, moving closer to her. She nodded her assent slowly, and cautiously handed him her bandaged right hand. Perhaps this is what Adan had been talking about earlier. She had thought that Solas’ ‘healing’ only related to magical injuries – she glanced briefly at her other hand, still unnerved by its alien appearance. 

He gently cupped her shaky hand in his own warm ones. They were both knelt on the floor with Addie watching his every move, their faces a scant few inches apart. He inspected her hand for a moment, gently turning it, and then slowly closed his eyes. 

Her own eyes couldn’t help but trace his features in that brief moment. His skin was smooth with a light scattering of freckles across his sharp cheekbones and his eyelashes made a delicate, dark fan across his closed eyes. His lips looked firm in his concentration and were beautifully shaped, full and bowed in the middle. She wondered at the tips of his ears, longer and more delicate than her own; she wondered what it would be like to touch them… but was distracted from further thoughts by the glimmer that began to emit from their hands. She watched in awe as gentle light and warmth enveloped her hand, the slow, tingling wash of feeling gradually erasing the throb of pain.

His eyes opened, relaxing into a small smile at the awe on her face. Their eyes caught and they looked at each for a long moment, their features gently illuminated by the dying light between them.

“Ok, that.” Addie breathed, looking back down at their joint hands, still softly glowing.

“That?” He murmured, curiously, quirking a brow. He barely even seemed tired.

“That is something I want to learn.” She said eagerly, breaking the quiet moment. “Can you teach me healing magic? None of this demons and shit.”

“I am sorry, Herald, but healing is somewhat beyond someone who discovered their gift a day ago. We will have to build up to that. And that includes dealing with ‘demons and shit.” He smiled more fully as she frowned. He seemed to realise he was still holding her hand and released his loose hold on her. “Have you never experienced healing before?”

“Well, no. As I mentioned last night, I’ve had very little experience with magic.” She decided to breeze past their fraught conversation of the night before, carefully moving her bound fingers and marvelling at the change. “I thought you had to be possessed like Anders to be able to do healing things.”

Solas looked at her cautiously and shook his head. “Ander’s case is somewhat different. Though, different does not necessarily mean bad.”

“I know.” For a change, she smiled up at him and – not really wanting to get into yet another debate of Anders; good or bad? – moved back to the previous topic: “Thank you for healing my hand.”

“I have just reduced the swelling and sped up the healing process – it will still be sore. Healing, particularly healing bruises, is not one of my strengths.” Solas said, re-inspecting her now green and yellow-splotched hand, brushing his hand over hers. Goose-flesh rose on her skin, and she resisted the urge to shiver at the soft sensation. “You should still be careful with it. And more careful with yourself.”

She sighed. How exactly was she meant to do that? “I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

They looked at each other for a moment longer, still huddled close together on the rug. Solas cleared his throat and leaned back.

“So, magic.” Addie said, trying to get her mind back on track.

“Yes.” He looked at her for a moment longer and then moved back and sat cross-legged. “This may sound odd, but please bear with me. You need to empty your mind completely of distraction. We are going to look inside of ourselves and find our magic: see if you can _feel_ your magic. You should be able to sense how it runs through you. Understanding it, understanding the feel of it, its patterns, is one of the first steps to gaining control of it, rather than relying on your emotions which, as we saw yesterday, can bring unpredictable results.”

Addie was frowning. This seemed impossible. Nevertheless, she was determined to follow his instructions. He, out of everyone that she had met so far here, seemed to have much more of an idea of what was going on inside her. She might be terrified of the accidental magic she had caused over the past few days, but having control? Healing injuries? These were goals she wanted, no, _needed_ to achieve. 

She nodded firmly. His lips quirked at her almost fierce expression. “I will guide you in this. You should get comfortable.”

She wriggled around on the rug, mirroring his cross-legged stance, and placed her hands on her knees, downturned so that she wouldn’t be distracted by the glaring gash in her hand. Her body ached, but she tried to turn her mind from it.

“Now, close your eyes. Try to step away from outside distraction and noises. Look inside yourself; feel your magic.” He spoke lowly, soothing. She couldn’t decide if his lilting accent was helpful or distracting.

“Focus on your breathing, in and out. How your body moves with each breath.” Addie sneakily slid an eye open, checking whether he was serious or simply making fun of her. But no, there he was; eyes closed, breathing deeply. 

She mentally shrugged and closed her eyes again, continuing to listen as he outlined further elements for her to concentrate on. Without even consciously realising it, as he continued to speak in that low, even tone, her mind started to relax, and her thoughts quietened.

And then there was a flicker of something. An internal golden glimmer. Her mind floated towards it, sensing pathways to travel along, seeing glimpses of intricate networks and knots within herself.

Swift knocking on the door abruptly brought her out of her meditative (and, let’s be honest, sleepy) state. She glanced at Solas, blearily.

“Expecting someone?” 

“There is no doubt in my mind that that is for you.” He said, making no move to answer his own door. 

She rolled her eyes and stumbled, oh so elegantly, to her feet to open the door. A hooded figure appeared, and she instinctively took a step back, reaching to grasp at her lower back for a dagger that wasn’t there.

“Apologies for startling you, Herald.” The man said, after a tense moment. “The Lady Ambassador wished for me to give you this note.” 

“Oh... Thanks.” She said, taking the proffered letter and feeling silly about her alarmed reaction. The hooded figure merely nodded to her and went on his way.

She turned at Solas’ quiet snort: “What?”

“That is just how the Lady Nightingale’s agents dress.”

“Yes, I’ve figured that out now.” She said dryly. Then she paused. “They… uh… gave me a note.”

“Yes?”

“Could you, um, could you read it for me?” Addie could feel the dull heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck, the prior calm she had found quickly receding. She was permanently on the back foot with these people.

“It was not addressed to… Oh, my apologies. Of course.” Solas took the note from her outstretched hand, noting the fine shake of her fingers. “It merely invites you to take lunch or tea with Josephine at your convenience. The note does also indicate to the scout that they should read it aloud. Perhaps Leliana’s people are unaccustomed to such things, in their line of work.”

“Probably.” Addie said, begrudgingly. “Do you have much more that you thought we should cover today? I wasn’t able to eat anything this morning so…”

Solas waved her away. “We have been in here for over an hour, I am not surprised you are hungry. You should go.”

“An hour?” She asked, eyebrows raised. “You know… I did feel something. It was…” She waved her hand searching for the right words, but drifted off, unable to fully explain the sensation.

“I suppose this ‘magic thing’ isn’t so bad, after all?” Solas asked, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth. She glanced at him, surprised. He looked… well, he looked nice when he was smiling at her. 

Addie shook herself internally. She needed to leave. There were a few too many compliments for Solas from her mind today.

“Maybe I could come and see you later?” She asked, of course doing the exact opposite of what her brain was telling her. “I’d like to get to know you a bit better, if you are to be my teacher. We… we didn’t exactly start out well.”

Solas huffed amusedly: “Yes, you could say that. You need not worry; it is of no concern, _da’len_.” He patted her gently on the shoulder, worry appearing on his face when she flinched away from him.

“More bruises?” Solas inquired, quickly removing his hand from near her shoulder. “May I see?”

“Oh, uh… sure.” The top was a tight fit, but she managed to slip some of the fabric across her shoulder to show him the blossoming purple ranging across her collarbone to underneath the stretched fabric. He came closer and peered down at her, his fingers lightly brushing the area.

“I can’t quite see all of it.” Solas sighed. She could feel the puff of air against her skin and she turned her head away from where he was crowded up against her, discomforted. “If you are happy to do so, you should remove your tunic.”

_By the fucking Maker._

“Well, apparently it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” She said, smirking at him to try and cover up her discomfort. She heard lilting laughter in her head, as memories of similar occasions came to mind. The smirk turned a little wistful, as she began to tug off her tunic.

She felt rather than saw him turn away. “I can assure you, that I did not look beyond medical purposes. Your servant did most of the work.”

“Well, Liri is _la palomita_.” She said, her smile broken by the occasional wince from moving her shoulder. She held the tunic over herself, to form another layer over the cloth that covered her breasts, which suddenly felt like very little material.

Solas turned around when she had stopped rustling and stepped closer, examining her arm.

He hissed in a breath between his teeth. “The Seeker did this in training?”

“It was an accident; I dropped my daggers. I think she thought I would be quicker. Probably stronger too.” She clenched the fabric of her tunic tighter, not a little embarrassed. “Don’t worry, I’ve looked worse.”

“How reassuring.” Solas said dryly. He gently probed the contusion. It ran from her collarbone to décolletage, and then swirled out over her shoulder. “The bones appear to be sound at least. You may as well point out anywhere else that needs healing. I should be able to remove at least some of the pain.”

She tilted her head, considering him carefully, and then placed the tunic on the bed. Her body was littered with bruises; purples, blues and greens covering her tanned skin.

“These are all fairly minor,” She said, gesturing to her stomach, “but…”

“Is that a handprint?” He interrupted, outrage colouring his usually even voice.

“Well, you did that.” She said, confused and a little taken aback. “With the Pride demon…”

There was a pause.

“Ah. I- I apologise. Truly, Herald.” He inclined his head toward her.

“I’d rather a couple of finger-marks than a demon running around in my mind.” She tried for flippant, but the remembered fear made her voice catch.

“That is the next issue we will cover.” He promised and then looked at her seriously, the firm slant to his eyebrows causing a crease to form between them. He gestured to her body: “Do you have any other injuries?”

“As I said, pretty minor now really. Just a few other bumps and bruises.” At his continued serious expression, she continued: “Nothing that feels as sore as the one on my shoulder. Or looks as shitty as the one on my arm.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, his warm hands lightly wrapping around her arm. The same golden light shimmered about her arm where his hands were, and she watched transfixed as the mottled colours on her arm began to change and fade. He slowly switched to the other site of injury, his even breathing and the warm glimmer he produced lulling her into her sleepy mindset from earlier. She was so tired…

“I’m afraid that is as much as I can do.” Solas said, releasing her shoulder. She felt bereft of his warmth almost at once, and abruptly uncomfortable again as she came back to herself.

“Thank you. I’d be in a much sorrier state without you.” She said, quietly, fidgeting. She glanced down. The alarmingly blotchy dark skin of her shoulder had morphed into faded greens and yellows, with a light red striation down the centre – probably where her body had taken the most impact from the Seeker’s sword. She sighed, brushing the skin carefully. It was still sore, but just like with her earlier injury, it was no longer pulsating with pain.

“I am surprised the Seeker treated you the way she did. You are no longer a prisoner. And we cannot have our Herald both injured and underprepared.” He might have meant it as a light-hearted jest, but the comment stung. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone here sees me as anything but a tool. I _was_ a prisoner, shoved towards what could have been my death, to solve a problem that no one understood; they weren’t even sure if it would work.” She replied, resentment welling within her. “Even if you’re healing me and feeding me now, it’s only so I can live long enough to try again.” 

“Herald…”

“Even now!” She interrupted, lowly. “I’m not the Herald of anything! And I have a name, you know.”

“My apologies. Adelaide.” He looked up at her from beneath his lashes as her name left his lips. It was silky and smooth, and gods did it go straight to her head. She shoved the tunic back over her head, quickly straightened it and headed to the door.

“Thank you for all your help today.” She said a bit stiffly, feeling wrong-footed. Whenever she thought she had a handle on something, the situation always changed… Looking back at him, he walked over to the doorway with her. “The healing was especially appreciated. It was…” She cleared her throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nodded and she strode away quickly, her thoughts twisted.

She glanced back as she walked toward the Chantry. He was still stood in the doorway, frowning after her.

“I must tell you; you are a source of much curiosity for me.” Josephine said, her warm eyes sparkling. “Leliana dropped so many little details about your life but I do not have the whole picture. A mage who did not know they were a mage? A servant who has become the centre of an international controversy? It sounds like a novel come to life!”

Addie laughed uneasily. “Well, when you put that way…”

“I do not mean to pry, of course. But your looks, your accent, your story... It is all too fascinating!” Josephine smiled, pouring a stream of dark fragrant liquid from a teapot into the fine bone china on her desk. 

Addie smiled hesitantly – how do you respond to that? She took a cup and saucer uncertainly – she was glad all over again of Solas’ healing; she couldn’t imagine how embarrassing it would be to drop something as fine as this – and copied Josephine exactly as she delicately stirred a small teaspoon of honey into her tea.

“So, and do forgive me for being so inquisitive, would you tell me a little about yourself?”

Addie paused, the china rattling a little in her hand until she stilled it firmly. “O-of course. What would you like to know?”

“What kind of work did you do? Who was the family that you worked for? Leliana mentioned the Mainserai family – is that true?” She paused towards the end, for the first time sounding as uncertain as Addie felt. She took a sip before she replied, steeling herself.

“It was the Mainserai family. I imagine you know… Did you hear what happened?” Addie placed the cup down on the table. Just in case.

“Of course. It sent shockwaves around the noble families of Thedas!” Josephine sipped her tea daintily, eyes huge behind her cup. “Were you there? At the riot? Is it true that Lord Mainserai had an elf killed because a stone was thrown at his carriage?”

“Yes, it’s true. I was in the city. Jerome, their usual stable hand, he was getting too old to travel so I was taking over his duties, especially when the household travelled to big gatherings. I was in the house when the assassins killed Mainserai.”

Josephine gasped, and bowed her head.

“I am sorry for your loss.” She looked up at the snort of derision that came across from her.

“Do not be sorry for that man’s death. No one deserved it more.” Addie said, her mouth a thin line. “He was... He was unkind to us, to the servants.” She felt her throat close up, and she fixed her gaze on the steam rising from her tea.

“That sounds most distressing, Herald. I am sorry for it.” Josephine said, gently, clearly deciding not to push the topic further. “Lady Mainserai, was she…?”

“She didn’t particularly care for her husband either, though she was possessive of her position in society. She certainly never intervened or got involved in his… affairs.” She paused, thinking. “Other than that, I suppose she was not a bad mistress, in her own way. She loved the animals on the estate, and collecting them, at least for me, my position was quite important to her.”

“I have meet her at balls once or twice – I seem to recall a particular predilection for peacock feathers; I suppose that explains it!” Josephine smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “I understand Lady Mainserai was at the Conclave. Is that how you happened to be here?” 

“Ah, no. I left the Mainserai household after he was killed. It was absolute chaos; I think the majority of us fled. Especially when…” She paused, unsure how to continue. “Well, you know what happened to the alienage at Halamshiral.”

“Where did you go?” Josephine’s eyes were bright, watching her carefully, as she expertly poured just the right amount of tea into her cup. “This was over a year ago now, yes?”

“I escaped with some friends. We picked up odd jobs here and there until I found myself here.” She said briefly, and then sighed. “I do feel bad for leaving the horses. At least the animals at the summer estate still had Jerome and his wife.” She smiled wistfully. “I like to think, despite the fall in the family’s fortunes, that at least all of the animals are well.”

Silence fell between them for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts until her stomach growled loudly. Josephine gave a tinkling laugh; she tried to smile through her embarrassment. 

“My apologies, Herald. I know how hard you have been training today – forgive my manners, I was so excited to learn more about you.” She smiled warmly and pulled the lid off a silver tray balanced on her full but neatly organised desk. “Please, take as many as you like. The pâté is particularly good.”

Addie’s eyes glimmered with anticipation as she took in the selection of small pastries and breads, but she reached towards them hesitantly. She was not unused to the small portions that lay temptingly in front of her – in her younger years, she had worked in the kitchens of the family estate – but eating it was another matter. How to do this delicately in front of Josephine?

As if listening to her thoughts, Josephine picked up one of the folded pastries and gracefully popped it, whole, into her mouth. Addie could have cried in relief when she followed suit. The soft bread, the tart accompaniment of the caramelised chutney on the pâté felt like divinity itself. She relished in the flavour for a moment before reaching for another one.

“I thought that we might talk about learning to read and write.” Josephine said, between bites of their dainty picnic. “You seemed interested yesterday; I thought we might meet every day, around this time, and get to work. What do you think?”

Addie swallowed hastily at the question. “That would be very kind of you. If you’re sure you’re not too busy…?” She asked, glancing at the piles on the desk again.

“It would be my pleasure.” Josephine said firmly. “And, this is in the Inquisition’s best interests. If you are not too tired, we can begin today.”

Addie nodded cautiously, taking a restorative sip of tea to calm the sudden butterflies that had erupted in her stomach. This suddenly seemed a lot more dauting than just a lunch.

“So, I think we should begin by learning the common alphabet to begin, rather than Orlesian, how the letters work together to make sounds and get you used to forming the letters yourself. I will make a list of the letters and we will come up with words to go with those letters, yes?” A delicate frown appeared on her face as she concentrated on the parchment in front of her, the quill dancing across it as she spoke. “We should make it something memorable, so that we can easily remember the connection between the two.” She smiled as she looked up at Addie’s anxious expression, her dark eyes warm. “Do not worry yourself overmuch, Adelaide. It will be a learning curve for us both – I have never taught anyone to write before. However, I thought you might prefer a more familiar face to one of the Chantry mothers.”

“ _Absolutement_.” Addie nodded fervently, as she picked up another morsel from the rapidly depleting tray. She thought back to the terrifying, stern clergy she had known growing up and suppressed a shudder.

“I’m glad you prefer my company.” Josephine said smoothly. “First we should figure out with which hand you prefer to write.”

The first few minutes were a struggle, as they attempted to navigate around Addie’s healing right hand and her Marked left one. Eventually Addie decided to practice with the quill inventively held and wedged in between the fingers of her right hand. After giving her an example to begin, they got stuck in, with Addie becoming more and more excited as she got drawn into the lesson, fascinated with how sounds and lines morphed into language. Josephine even scooted their chairs closer together for easier participation for the both of them, chattering eagerly.

“Now this one,” Josephine said, indicating the growing list in front of them, “Is more of a breathy sound.”

“Ooh – handcuff knot,” Addie exclaimed. “My friend always made me laugh whenever we did one of those. She was the dirtiest person I’ve ever met.”

“A handcuff…?” Josephine trailed off, one eyebrow raised speculatively, eyes gleaming impishly.

“Oh, a handcuff knot is just a specific type of knot. I mean, it is exactly what it sounds like, but I spent a year on a ship, so I had to learn a lot of different knots. There are hundreds of the damn things.” She smiled, the nostalgia making it bittersweet.

“I did not know you had travelled!” Josephine said, excitedly. “Where have you been? Where did you enjoy the most?”

“Oh, um, sorry to disappoint, Josephine. I was one of the crew on a uh… ship. You know, import, export, negotiations. That sort of thing. I was just a crew-hand, I didn’t get much time to go exploring.” She said, fumbling over her explanation. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It just also wasn’t the whole truth.

“A shame! I always long to hear about places I have yet to go. But no matter.” She wrote down the word, slowly spelling it out as well as showing Addie the curves and angles of the individual letters, and the sounds they made, alone and together. She handed the quill over to Addie who, shakily, drew only the first letter next to Josephine’s precise and elegant script and then sounded out the letters too. “Very good. On to our next letter…”

The rest of the lesson passed by in a whirl of ink and those ridiculous tiny sandwiches. Addie couldn’t remember the last time she had more fun. 

However, the last few minutes of their meeting had held a shock: when their lesson had drawn to a close, Josephine had drawn out a sheath of large documents, dominated by neatly-drawn tables, with many squiggles on it. Addie had squinted at it in incomprehension while Josephine explained that it was the staffing chart – everyone who worked for the Inquisition was recorded by Josephine and her charts, then paid accordingly. 

“I have placed you here.” She said, indicating one chart. “As the Inquisition grows, I have to change my charts more and more. It is an inefficient way of handling things, but I have not had the opportunity to think about this in more detail. Maybe next time we… Well, never mind. I have taken the liberty of adding you, now that you have given Cassandra your word to help us.” She smiled at Addie and started to explain how much she would be earning with them, when she would be paid and how this might change over time as roles changed.

Addie had walked out of Josephine’s office, dazed and laden down with a new purse, clinking full of silvers and coppers.

She still couldn’t believe it. Even when she worked on the ship, she hadn’t earned this much. Though the frugal voice within her protested, she headed down to the stalls toward the front of the village and stood in front of them, eyeing up the goods on display. 

Seggrit – that was the name Varric had said, right? – looked her up and down in disdain before his eyes locked on to her hand. “Oh, Herald. I didn’t realise it was you.” He coughed and gestured to the stall around him. “Anything you need is yours. For a reasonable price of course.”

She walked away a few minutes later, disappointed. Reasonable price, her ass. Varric was right about him.

At something of a loss, she decided to search out her favourite dwarf and headed to the tavern. Pushing open the door she was greeted by a strong waft of a log fire, the warmth of bread and meat, and the sour smell of beer and unwashed bodies. She inhaled and sighed happily; a deep sense of fondness filling her as she made her way over to the short bar.

“Oh, it’s you! The Herald of Andraste! What can I get for you, Herald?” The blonde woman behind the bar sidled over to her, enthusiastically, running a cloth down the wood over a few spills.

“What gave it away?” She eyed her hand askance, leaning lightly against the bar.

“Varric described you to a tee. I’m Flissa and this here’s the Singing Maiden.”

“Nice place you got here, Flissa.” She said, looking around happily, and slid a copper across the bar. For a tavern in the middle of nowhere, it was surprisingly clean. “A pint, please.” 

“Sure, coming up. Hungry, Herald? There’s a pot of stew the back – tastes pretty good, if I don’t say so myself.” Flissa said, passing a beer over the top of the bar and wiping her hands dry on her apron. Addie nodded with a smile and handed over a few of her coppers, almost gleefully.

There, she thought smugly. Spent some of her wages.

“I’ll have it brought out; take a seat.” She thanked her and scanned the small tavern for the auburn head of her favourite author.

Well, no dwarf, but the light did glint off some familiar blonde, slicked back hair and a ruffled – _seriously, what is that thing? Did he murder a big chicken?_ – neck. Taking a deep swig from her stein for courage, she made her way over to Cullen.

“Hello, Commander.” She gripped her stein a bit too hard and had to switch hands, wincing.

“Ah, Herald!” Cullen rose to his feet and inclined his head. “How are you?”

“A bit bruised, but I think I’ll live.” She smiled up at him, and then muttered, “This time.” 

Cullen chuckled, the smile creasing his eyes – _dang, he was gorgeous_ – and indicated the chair next to him. “Would you care to join me? I was just finishing up some reports and Flissa’s stew.”

“Doing your work in the pub? Shocking lack of decorum. How’s that going for you?” She grinned and plonked herself down in the chair. Meetings in closed rooms, surrounded by guards and Chantry sisters, were terrifying. The pub was her natural element. She instantly felt more comfortable and… confident.

“Well enough.” Cullen smiled and rubbed his temple. “So, your training is going well? Cassandra mentioned that she’d put you through your paces this morning. Maybe even gone a bit too far…?” He trailed off, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“She dislocated my finger.” Addie deadpanned.

“She did?” Cullen’s amber eyes widened, surprised, his spoon clunking against the bowl. “She failed to mention that part.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t fun.” She waved her bandaged fingers at him. “Had a whole thing with Adan _and_ Solas; there’s a lot of really surly men around here.”

“Is anyone giving you a hard time?” He asked, a frown pulling his eyebrows into a stern line.

“Just some interestingly shaped bruises and, uh, reactions.” She said shrugging and taking a gulp of beer, as she remembered Solas’ healing session and his gentle hands on her body. Before her imagination ran away with her too much – _how would the Commander react in that situation?_ – she redirected. “I spent most of the afternoon with Josephine anyway. I don’t think anyone could have a bad day with her.”

“As much as I enjoy working with my new colleagues, I can confirm that not only is it possible, but you can very much lose the will to live listening to the latest gossip.” Cullen groused, scraping up the remnants of his food and taking a big bite. Was it possible to be jealous of a spoon?

“Good to know.” She smiled slowly at him. “But I don’t really want to talk about work. Can I buy you a drink, Commander? I saw you working hard with the recruits this morning, you deserve a break too. Maybe we can get to know each other a little better.”

Cullen paused, leaning back in his chair for a moment. “That’s a kind offer, my lady, but I should really finish these reports.”

“The work never stops?” 

“Not at the moment, I’m afraid.” He scooped up the last of his stew and gathered his papers. “I should probably call it a night now, if I wish to get this done this evening. If you’ll excuse me?” He dropped his head in a quick bow again and then exited the tavern.

Huh, ditched already. She nodded at Flissa gratefully when she brought her bowl over and quickly inhaled the stew. She was right; it was good. She used some bread to mop up the juices and sighed contentedly.

Addie sat there for a few long moments, enjoying the ambience as the night darkened and the tavern got busier and rowdier. Realising she was taking up a table for four, and just sitting there, she decided to call it a night. Taking her bowl and stein up to the bar, she waved her thanks to Flissa and made her way slowly out of the crowded bar, still enjoying the atmosphere, despite the crush of people.

She entered her cabin but stopped in the doorway when she saw Liri arranging some bread next to a bowl of steaming stew: “Oh no, I’m so sorry, Liri. I ate at the tavern.”

“T’is fine, my lady. I will just clear up.” 

“Sorry, Liri, that was selfish of me. I didn’t think. Why don’t you have it? If you haven’t eaten yet that is.” She talked over her protests, as she closed the door behind her and dropped heavily on the bed. “It will just go to waste otherwise.”

“Th-thank you… Adelaide.” A small smile. Success! Addie beamed at her.

“Is there anything else I can do for you this evening?” Addie shook her head quickly, reassured her that everything was fine and why didn’t she eat that while it was still warm? Liri checked outside the window.

“It will be full dark soon. If I am done for the evening…?”

“You’re welcome to stay here if you like, but you are free to do whatever,” Addie reassured her, sitting up on the bed and pulling off her shoes. Her eyes kept fluttering closed of their own accord, and she straightened on the bed as she tried to keep her focus on Liri.

“No, thank you. I will bid you good night, Adelaide.” Liri curtseyed, a smile still playing about her lips. 

“Have a good evening, Liri!” Addie chirped, pulling off her leggings as Liri exited. She quickly snuggled into her oversized sleeping tunic – now officially hers, no way anyone was getting this back – and got into bed. She was asleep in record time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting way out of hand so I split it (again)…  
> Would anyone else 100% sign up for Solas guided meditation? 😊
> 
> Hope you're all doing ok!
> 
> (Translation: _Merde_ – shit  
>  _la cerise sur le gâteau_ – the cherry on top [of the cake]  
>  _la palomita_ \- little dove (Spanish)  
>  _Absolutement_ \- absolutely)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it! Give us a shout below if you have suggestions :)


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